Marked, Maimed, Claimed
by Aphiria
Summary: He doesn't know how he got here, how they got here, but he knows he wouldn't give it up. Stiles/Derek
1. Arrival

This story takes place six months after the season 1 finale so technically this is divergent canon verging into AU territory. Expect some season 2 characters to crop up eventually, or maybe not at all. This is probably, maybe, most likely, going to be a long and drawn out fic where the build up to Sterek will be slow and blissfully painful. You'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll notice I don't have a beta, and that I never stick to any kind of update schedule. I apologize for what spills from my brain to my fingertips and makes its way onto the Internets.

* * *

Stiles is just out of his third period and is putting his chemistry books in his locker, thinking idly about the lasagna he was going to devour at lunch, when he feels a hand roughly grip his shoulder and slam him none too gently into the row of closed lockers next to his open one. It takes a few seconds for everything to click in place. Six months. Six months since he's seen him, since anyone in Beacon Hills has seen him. Six months since the big showdown that almost got everyone killed. Six months since Derek killed the Alpha, his Uncle, and then disappeared completely. Stiles had his Dad keep a line open with the other nearby stations and kept contact with the Wildlife Service for questionable animal killings, kept track of several local news stations and papers up and down the pacific coast, and checked Derek's house twice a week for any sign of life. Every week he received no news. He was waiting for some sign of him, even if it was all Alpha-ed out and a cold blooded killer. Because they would track him down, him, Scott, and Allison, and they would bring him back. If they couldn't, then they would take him out. _Six months_. Stiles wanted to punch him but he ended up throwing his arms around a seriously confused Derek Hale and hugging him to within an inch of his life instead. Derek stood frozen in his grasp until he relaxed a little and gave Stiles two awkward pats on the back before pushing the teen away.

"Dude, where the hell have you been!"

He shrugs taking time to look around the deserted hall. It was everyone's lunch period. They were alone.

"I need you, Allison, and Scott to meet me in the woods behind my place. I tried to call Scott but his phone is off."

Stiles grins, "yeah it better be off. Mrs. Mencha would be seriously pissed if it rang in class again. This one time, his phone went off because I had texted him, and she made him wear a sombrero-"

He stops talking when he sees Derek's annoyed glare. When he gets excited he rambles but Derek seems to remember that because he rolls his eyes. Stiles grins at him again and punches his shoulder. The annoyed glare is back in full force but Stiles ignores it.

"We can be there after practice."

Derek shakes his head. "I've got a few things to handle, mostly being a wanted fugitive. I'll meet you guys around eight."

Stiles ignores his narrowing eyes and scratches at the back of his head.

"About that."

Derek waits silently for the teen to speak.

"You're not a wanted man anymore. Me and Scott talked to my dad and made sure they found the evidence they needed to point to your uncle. Mr. Argent gave a statement. But there's a lot of stuff that they you need to fill in."

Derek remains silent because he kind of knows that Stiles isn't finished yet. _At least he's not rusty, _the teen thinks.

"The bank needs you to sign a bunch of crap, something about inherited funds or something."

Derek pinches the bridge of his nose for a few moments before looking back up to Stiles.

"What about my car?"

A nervous laugh peels out of Stiles before he can stop it. He's slammed up against the lockers again with Derek crowding his personal space. They've done this tango before but it still doesn't mean his heart isn't trying to escape from his chest via his throat.

"Impounded."

Derek lets him go and backs off after a moment and stares at him in confusion. Stiles snorts.

"We wouldn't let anything happen to that car."

Derek seems to be grateful if the tiny grin means anything but his phone buzzes to life in his pocket and he pulls it out to scowl at it. He points at Stiles as he slips it back into his green jacket.

"You three, in the clearing behind my house, 8 o'clock."

Stiles nods and watches as the werewolf start to walk away. Stiles calls after him almost absentmindedly.

"It's good to have you back Derek."

He watches as tall, dark, and broody walks out of the double doors. Stiles slams his locker closed and darts off to the lunchroom to tell the others, mumbling to himself.

"Even if you still scare me, a little bit."


	2. Reunion

I know that an Alpha's eyes are supposed to be red but I like the idea that you can see the changing colors and the struggle Derek has with it. He has always known his "inner wolf" if you will and now he has to relearn it all over again. He was never supposed to have this power or station. His eyes provide a contrast that he don't show outwardly.

* * *

By the time Stiles and Scott drive up to the Derek's house Allison is already there. Scott walks up to where she is leaning against her car and they all make their way to the clearing a few 100 feet behind the devastated house. It's quiet, eerily quiet in the small clearing with only the waning moon to light the dark forest.

"It would be pretty if it wasn't so creepy."

Stiles mutters under his breath only to watch his best friend pointedly roll his eyes at him. He rolls his eyes right back. _Werewolves!_ He's about to throw a dig at him about eavesdropping when he feels something behind him. His heart almost beats out of his chest when he turns around to find Derek not five feet away from him.

"Jesus, you're trying to kill me already?"

Derek ignores him to nod at Allison and Scott who are smiling at the older werewolf.

"It good to see you Derek."

He takes the time to meet their eyes one by one.

"It's good to see you too."

He looks at them in an almost fond way before startling them all by walking closer and slipping two rings off of his right hand. One is smaller, it barley fits to the second knuckle on his pinky finger, and the other ring is larger, settled tightly on his ring finger. Stiles looks at the rings curiously as he pulls them off. It's not until Derek is trying to hand him the bigger ring that Stiles reacts. He throws his hands in front of him and takes a step back.

"Dude, I know you need medical but I am so not marrying you."

Derek fixes him with a death glare as he grabs the pale teen's hand and forces the ring into his palm before offering the smaller ring to Allison who takes it but not before staring at Scott in confusion. They all look at the rings as he explains.

"Scott is a part of my pact. I'll know him no matter what. But you two, you're human. When I go Alpha I resort to my most basic animal instincts."

Stiles nods his head, rapidly turning the ring over in his palm.

"Hunters are humans, humans are enemies."

Derek ignores him but continues.

"The rings are pure silver. It'll grab my attention. It's my-"

Stiles interrupts again, something like shock written across his features.

"Family symbol."

_The same symbol tattooed on your back_, Stiles thinks as he slips the ring on his pointer finger, his hand forms a fist, he can feel the ring settle there, before he relaxes the grip to look at the symbol again.

"Yes, it's my family's mark. This ring means your family, family means pack. Marks you for other werewolves."

Stiles focuses on Derek after that. "What's that mean?"

Derek throws him another glare. Stiles gulps but holds his ground and waits for Derek to give him an answer.

"It means they'll see the symbol and know that you're a part of my pack. It's for protection."

"What is the red gem in the center?"

Derek doesn't give her a death glare Stiles notices. Scott answers the question with his eyebrows rising high on his forehead and his nose flaring wide.

"It's your blood."

Stiles freezes, because _WHAT?_

"Just enough to give off a scent."

Stiles stares at the tiny red dollop in the center of the swirls.

"Dude, that's kind of weird."

Derek shakes his head.

"We rely on our sense of smell more than anything else. This way other werewolves know that you're part of my pack without going off the scent around you."

Stiles stares at him.

"Huh?"

Scott answers. "They can smell me on Allison. They might not even approach her because of it but with the scent of an Alpha on her…"

Stiles frowns as it clicks in his head. Scott's scent is all over Allison and Allison's is all over Scott. Derek could have just said it's to make sure nobody kills Stiles.

"It's for protection from other wolves and from me."

Now Stiles is really confused. Scott beats him to the punch again.

"Derek, what are you talking about?"

Derek shifts his weight from one foot to another, thinking, gauging them and their possible reactions. Stiles has a feeling he really isn't going to like what they are going to hear.

"The reason why I left was because I couldn't control the Alpha. I went to someone I know back in Seattle."

Stiles is shocked because Derek had left the same night that he had killed his uncle. Took off, left everything behind without so much of a word to any of them.

"Derek, you split that night. We looked for you for weeks man."

The older wolf ignores the anger wafting off of the teen to stare at his feet in what looks like shame.

"As a Beta I learned how to control my wolf. I was never meant to be an Alpha, not like that. I was supposed to inherit from my sister… if she didn't have a family."

They all get quiet at that. It's a subject that would always be sore for Derek and Stiles heart went out to him because he knew how much loosing someone you loved hurt.

"It was too much at once. The Alpha is pure power. Everything you feel is amplified. Anger is heighted tenfold. Grief is crippling. It's the most animal I have ever been and I couldn't control it. I wasn't going to let what my Uncle did happen again. I went to a Native Shaman. He helped me to learn how to control it."

Something he said makes Scott stiffen and in turn makes Stiles really, really nervous.

"Then what's with the rings Derek?"

The werewolves lock gazes and Stiles can feel his whole body tense. _This might be bad._ He slips the black rod from his jacket sleeve and flicks his wrist to open it. He is rewarded with three metallic clicks that draw both wolves' gazes to him. Derek is staring at him over his shoulder and if Stiles wasn't panicking he might have seen the older werewolf's smirk before he turned back to Scott. Stiles shrugs one shoulder at Scott's unbelieving look.

"Precautions."

Scott steps forward and puts himself between Derek and Allison almost subconsciously. His golden eyes flashing as he turns his frowning face up to Derek

"You don't know how to completely control him do you Derek?"

"I wouldn't have come back if I didn't believe I could."

Whatever had been building broke when Scott lowers his head. Stiles mouths _WOLF STUFF_ over the werewolves' heads at Allison to help calm her down. Derek throws a glare over his shoulder at him, eyes flashing an electric blue. Stiles blinks. The readinglips behind your back was new.

"I asked you all to come here so I could scent you. So Stiles, put that thing away before you hurt yourself."

"Hey, crazy hunter lady used it!"

Stiles grimaces and ducks his head, "Sorry Allison."

Scott has an arm thrown around her shoulder in support but she shakes her head that it was okay. Allison had come to terms that her Aunt was crazy and that her family was hiding way more from her than she originally thought.

"Besides we tested it."

Derek snors, "What do you mean we tested it?"

Stiles grins as Scott fills him in.

"Stiles has been testing out a few myths and ideas he's been having. We found a lot of useful stuff."

Derek casts a look between the two of them and then at the high-tech cattle prod.

"I leave you alone for a few months and you jump head first into danger."

Stiles raises his finger in the air.

"Technically it's been six months and the only person that was in danger was Scott."

Allison rolls her eyes and adds in, "and Stiles when I tore him a new one when his experiment with AgX put Scott in the ER."

Stiles freezes as Derek growls, "Silver Halide? Are you both morons?"

Stiles open his mouth but Derek holds up a hand and pinches the bridge of his nose with the other.

"Don't answer that."

Somehow that makes him feel worse at the same time that it makes him feel better. _At least they didn't die._ That thought did not sit well with him or his inner wolf. He uses that bit of fear to push himself into action. He shucks off his jacket.

"Let's just get this over with. I'll scent you in my Beta form first, refresh my memory. Put some space between each other. Hold out your wrists."

They did as they were told, Scott wearily eyeing Derek as he stepped away from Allison. Derek rolls his neck as his inner wolf came out as easily as it always had, his control never wavering. He takes Scott's wrist first and inhales deeply. He can smell the apprehension around him but he chooses to ignore it. Next he moves over to Allison. He makes sure to hold his breath and her scent. He will never forget it now. Stiles grins at him but Derek can smell his nervousness as he lifts his wrist to his nose and inhales. The kid always smelt like spearmint gum like how little kids were always just _sticky_ all the time, but now he had a tinge to him that he couldn't quite place. He drops his wrist and takes a step back to look at his rag tag pack before him.

"I'm going to let the alpha come out. I need to make sure I recognize your scent in that form before the full moon. I'm warning you now that you need to do exactly what I say."

His makes sure to meet all of their eyes.

"Stay as calm as you can. You're going to have to bare your throats. And Scott, you need to go Beta for this."

He lets that sink in and watches as Scott changes almost as easily as he does. Again he has the split feelings. He can't help but to feel proud that he was mastering his wolf without him and disappointed that he wasn't there to help him. He forces the feeling away as he gathers his resolve.

Stiles can feel the butterflies in his stomach, like little kamikaze pilots exploding inside of him. He's fighting hard not to tap his foot to ease some of the pent up energy on the leave strewn dirt.

"Ready?"

Scott nearly chokes as Derek starts to remove his close. The older werewolf just rolls his eyes at the noise his Beta makes.

"I am not ruining my clothes because you have an issue with nudity Scott."

And with that he unzips his jeans and Stiles get to see a whole lot of bare skin before he averts his eyes. W_oah, commando!_

"You're not – oh, _wow_."

Allison tilts her up at the sky and Stiles laughs a little at her blushing cheeks if only to draw the attention away from his own. He was focusing on the werewolf's bare shoulder as Scott growls. He was not expecting that, at all. He easily puts two and two together. Allison must have liked what she had seen or at least that's what her pheromones were saying.

"Scott, calm down."

Derek waits a few minutes until Scott nods at him, now calm, before sinking to his heels in the dirt and leaves. He exhales a shaky breath that Stiles can see frost out in front of him into the cool night air. Then everything seems to shift back and away and into something else. Suddenly Derek is rocking forward, hands now covered in thick black fur that branches out over every inch of skin, his muscles bulging and growing and slotting into place and rippling into strength. He looks more wolf in this form than Peter ever did. He looks dangerous and deadly but in a completely differnt way. But the transformation Stiles couldn't look away from was Derek eyes. They shift almost constantly from brilliant blue to devastating red and back again. It was like looking at an atom reaction in some nuclear power plant. He watches as Derek stands, rising taller than he normally was, and walks to where Scott was. His best friend stares down the massive Alpha, or rather stares up. Stiles heart is slamming around in his chest before Scott finally tips his head back in acceptance. The Alpha thrusts his face in the space and inhales, letting the breath escape nosily. Stiles watches in silent horror and curiosity as Derek opens his jaw and gives the teen a play bite. It wouldn't bruise or break the skin but it was just enough pressure to get the point across. Derek slips back silently and locks eyes with Scott. The growl that shakes out of his chest is clear.

**_I AM YOUR ALPHA_**.

Scott lowers his eyes as Derek steps passed him to Allison. She immediately lifts her head back to let Derek scent her. He nods at her as he steps away. Stiles tried to calm his racing heart as those ever changing eyes peer into his. This was too weird and Derek was too big, bigger than his Uncle if that was possible, and all wolfed out. He was having flashbacks of almost being decapitated by his Uncle and was fighting the urge to run. Eventually Stiles realizes that he was staring just like Scott had. He lifts his head back sharply to expose his neck, all under watchful cosmic eyes. When the werewolf leans closer Stiles can feel the heat pouring off of Derek as he takes a breath. He was acutely aware of the hot breath that billows against his skin as the Alpha exhales. He almost panics and pushes Derek away when he places a play bite on his neck too. Luckily Derek steps away from Stiles and begins to shift back to his human self as he walks back to where his clothes laid on the forest floor. Stiles takes in a shaky breath before he speaks.

"I see something white and shiny, I see Derek's hiney!"

That seemed to lighten the mood that had taken hold of them. Allison's laughter spilliing out into the quiet forest broke apart the too loud silence as Stiles makes his way over to Derek as he pulls on his shirt.

"What's with the nipping?"

He looks like he was going to ignore him but he turns his face up to meet the teen's curious eyes as he relaces his shoes.

"Alpha thing, had to remind you that I'm the boss."

"Yeah, okay, I kind of get that but why didn't you do it to Allison?"

He gives him a grin that Stiles doesn't know how to handle because –_fuck_– it was sincere.

"You don't bite another wolf's girl."

Stiles stands there contemplating the weird mannerisms of werewolves in deep concentration, so deep that he almost doesn't hear Derek's next question.

"What's with the police tape around my house?"

Stiles gives him what he thinks is his apologetic, _please don't eat_ _me_ grin. The growl that rises around him makes him rethink his facial features.

"Well, about that…"


	3. Homecoming

Scott tries to calm him down. He can feel the anger wafting off of Derek as they follow the older werewolf as he quickly walks back toward the darkened house with its plastic red rope tape over the entrances or anywhere anyone can climb into. There's really no damage to the house. Everyone is too afraid of Derek Hale to actually vandalize it but they looted the place.

"Some stupid kids used to sneak in and try to hold séances in the house. I used to scare them off when I knew they were there. Stiles got his dad to say it was condemned to keep them out. It's not falling apart but the Distinct Building Inspector doesn't want you living in it until its back up to code."

He's watching Derek carefully as he speaks. He hasn't shown any emotion since his sharp outburst of anger, well except for annoyance which is clearly surrounding him, just as strongly as the anger had before.

"Where am I going to stay if I can't stay in my own house?"

Scott and Stiles share a conspiring look and they all watch as the annoyance on Derek's face rises, his jaw tightening in apprehension.

"We got that figured out."

Stiles is grinning at the werewolf and Derek turns back to Scott. The look he gives the teen says that he is going to kill him. He's not as shocked by it as he used to be, mostly because there's no heat behind it. Stiles rushes to explain and put an end to the menacing glaring.

"See Scott's mom has been wanting to rent out the apartment over their garage. It needs a little work but it's got a bathroom, kitchen, and a bed. Everything a growing Alpha needs, well except cable."

"How did you two manage that?"

Allison laughs as she rests a hand gently on his forearm.

"That's so sweet, thinking they did all the work."

He cocks his head to the side as she makes her way to lean into Scott for warmth.

"She said if you help her out with stuff around the house she won't mind you joining us for dinner when her schedule isn't crazy."

Stiles rubs the back of his neck as he speaks.

"I'd offer the guest room at my house but I don't think that you'd want to live with the Sheriff after everything that's happened."

Derek looks at all of them. There's a lot of emotions rolling around inside of him, he tries to ignore the gratitude and the more tender emotions, tries his hardest to ignore the alpha growling in approval of his pack.

"I don't know what to say."

Stiles gives him something that looks like half grin half grimace and Derek knows, just knows, that the next words out of his mouth are going to piss him off.

"Don't start thanking us yet. They didn't just loot your furniture; they looted your clothes too."

It's upsetting to hear but clothes can be replaced and he had to buy new ones when he left. He just didn't happen to have more than a few shirts and two pairs of jeans. They were going to hold out until he got around to buying new clothes to replace his stolen ones. He toyed with the idea on tracking the looters down by scent and taking back everything they pilfered. His little revenge filled daydream was cut short by the teen's smile and excited eyes.

"And I have the best idea!"

That one sentence struck more fear into Derek than facing his Uncle. And that, is saying something.

* * *

"Why did I agree to this again?"

Stiles was grinning ear to ear as he hopped out of his jeep and onto the cement of his driveway as Derek sat on his parked bike staring at the Sheriff's house. He was more than likely thinking that it was a good thing that he took up the McCall's offer about staying in the garage apartment. Stiles took a second to look at the bike the older boy sat on. It was a sleek black and chrome Harley Davidson Blackline. He had enough time to google it on his way home.

"Because you're too cheap to buy a whole new wardrobe but apparently not a bike."

He was walking backwards up his driveway so he'd be able to see Derek's expression and was rewarded for his actions by Derek's annoyed frown.

"It's been mine for a while. I left it in Seattle."

Stiles feels like there is a lot being let unsaid in that sentence. Usually he would pry until he got the words buried underneath but Derek just got back and his life was already threatened at least once so he was going to let it go for now. He's lost in his thoughts halfway up his driveway when Derek's arm has him jerking to a stop. He watches as the werewolf's nose twitches in the cool night air.

"You have a dog?"

Stiles almost laughs. Instead he gives Derek a confused look because that's something Scott never had a problem with.

"He's a retired police dog. His hip was broken during a bust and he needed someone to look after him. My dad brought him home and I got him back on all fours."

Stiles shrugs his shoulders as Derek rolls his eyes. He ignores the eye roll in favor of walking to his front door. He barely has the door open when the German Sheppard comes flying out. Stiles shouts his name and the command to stop but the dog is already in front of Derek, teeth barred, a low growl rumbling out into the night. He stands there helpless as Derek slowly crouches down in front of the dog and growls right back, his eyes flashing that supernatural blue-red. Stile's jaw drops as Orion rolls over for a belly rub, which Derek happily supplies, before letting the dog sit back up and giving him a hard scratch behind the ears. He grins, he grins, two grins, plural grins, Stiles thinks as Derek walks past him and into the house with Orion right on his heels. Stiles has no choice but to follow. He tries to run through the past few minutes in his brain. When he can't make any sense of it he says the first thing that pops into his brain.

"Dude, did you just wolf wammy my dog?"

Derek gives him a blank stare and a shrug.

"He needed to learn that you were a part of my pack long before he became a part of yours."

"What?"

Stiles froze as the words finally sunk in but Derek was already walking away, Orion following, his tail wagging in delight. Stiles ignores his dog's betrayal by flinging himself into his favorite chair in the living room. He can't help but to frown as how his own dog lays down at the werewolf's feet as he sinks into the sofa.

"Was that the werewolf equivalent of you marking your territory? Wait, did you just tell my dog that I'm your territory? Cause I'm not just some ratty old leather boot you two can fight over. Scott doesn't treat me like an old chew toy. Should I know anything else about this pack thing? Do I need to register you two for tags? Should I worry about getting a flea col- Oh god, are you going to pee on me! Derek are you going to pee on me!"

"Stiles!"

He cringes back in his chair.

"Just shut up."

After a few minutes of silence Derek's speaks again looking directly at him in confusion.

"Where do you even come up with half the shit that falls out of your mouth?"

Stiles shrugs, "God given talent."

He watches as Derek rolls his eyes but reaches down to rub the German Sheppard's head before standing and looking at Stiles.

"You said you had something for me?"

Stiles nearly trips out of his chair to get up. It is part nervousness because he's not used to Derek being around anymore, wasn't really used to him before, and a little bit of excitement because he's back. He leads the way to the basement and explains as they make their way down the stairs.

"Most of the important stuff wasn't actually looted. It was taken as evidence and then stolen. Some of those cops have sticky fingers. I tried to talk to my dad about it but he says he has more important things to worry about than the effects of a criminal that-"

Stiles's rant tapers off as he takes in the annoyed look on his face.

"Anywaaaay, Scott and I saved as much as we could. My dad made sure that the Camero stayed in the impound lot. I do not want to know how much that is going to cost you."

Derek peers into one of the half a dozen boxes in the teen's basement. It was filled with picture albums, books, and a few articles he had taped on the wall of his old room. He didn't really fault the police for targeting him. Normal people don't have walls of information and pictures and snapshots thumb tacked to the wall of their bedrooms. It was just really annoying that they did.

"Fortunately a lot of the stuff that got lifted was your clothes and my mom kept a lot of my dad's old stuff. She thought I would fit into them one day. But I took after her I guess."

The werewolf glances up to see a small sad smile on the boy's face. Then Stiles was digging through a big tupperware bin and handing him whatever he could grab.

"You're about the same size. He said you could take whatever you wanted. Said it's the least he could do for you."

It's not until Derek is actually looking through the stuff piled in his arms that he speaks.

"Stiles, how much does your dad know?"

The kid went a few shades paler than his normal skin tone, his heart beat accelerating, and his pupils were expanding in the dimly lit basement.

"Can we move this to the living so I won't die in my dingy basement? On second thought, can you just kill me in the woods so my dad doesn't have to see my lifeless body?"

Derek groans as he slams the container shut. He picks up an old soccer bag and start shoving a few pairs of pants and shirts into it.

"Can't you ever just shut the hell up?"

"Have you even met me?"

Derek turns away from him and focuses on getting himself upstairs so he could change out of his clothes and away from the teen that he really wants to punch. He slams Stile's bedroom door in his face and ignores the boy's protest of "Yeah sure, no problem just take over my room."

"Why didn't he tell me at the station today?"

Stiles can hear his voice muffled by the door. He leans into the wall next to it, with crossed arms.

"Yeah, okay, in a station full of people you wanted him to out you for being big, bad, and furry. "_So are you willing to testify that your Uncle killed these people? Also, how's being the new Alpha treating you? You get fur balls often? The urge to kill strong?_"

He can hear something like shoes dropping to the floor.

"We were alone for a while."

Stiles shakes his head and realizes that Derek could do a lot of things that a normal human couldn't do but seeing through walls was not one of them.

"So you could freak out on him in the middle of a police station?"

Stiles doesn't hear much of anything until Derek opens the door and he steps out of Stiles's room in an old plaid shirt and dark wash jeans. The clothes had been in a box for years and yet they still looked newer, cleaner than the ones Derek had been wearing. Stiles wants to ask him where he had been staying and what he had been doing while he was away but the werewolf cut across his thoughts.

"You should have told me sooner."

He shrugs and leads them down the stairs, "had a lot of stuff to tell you. You've been gone for a while."

* * *

He notices how Stiles avoids looking at him. He notices how he deliberately turns his back on him. It's something that speaks louder than words to Derek, possibly even louder than the sharp sting of anger that drifts away from the teen in slow, small tendrels. He follows the teen down, ignoring his blatant disrespect, because it's more amusing than anything. He's patting Orion down, scratching at the big dog's ears when Stiles remembers something. He tells Derek to wait and dashes into the living room and comes back with a leather jacket clutched in his hand, Derek's leather jacket clutched in his hand.

"I wasn't sure that you were coming back. I mean I wouldn't blame you for getting as far away from this town as possible. There aren't many good memories for you here. But I knew that if you did come back then you'd kill me for letting someone take it. I might have borrowed it once or twice because I don't have a winter coat. Werewolves kept trying to maul me while I was in them."

Derek gives him a stern glare that Stiles was finally starting to understand that meant _shut up_. He ignores Stiles as he slips the jacket on over his borrowed clothes and lifts the strap of the old soccer bag across his chest and steps out onto the porch. It's not until he's outside and standing in the cold clean air that he realizes that Stiles was lying to him. The undershirt that he took from Stiles's room was clean. He could still smell the detergent and just a trace amount of the teen's lingering scent. Everything in the house permeated Stiles and his dad's scent. That was normal. And normal would be a residual trace on his jacket … it shouldn't smell like Stiles was standing right next to him. It was worn way more than a few times. Derek was slightly annoyed but much more intrigued. He was pulled from his sudden discovery by Stile's mocking voice.

"_Oh, Stiles you are such a kick ass friend for saving all my shit and offering up your home to me even though I've threaten to kill you at least twice a week since we've met_. No problem Derek, what are friends for?"

He turns around and levels him with a glare that makes the teen shrink back. The werewolf starts to walk to where he left his bike parked in the driveway but not before throwing a thank you over his shoulder. He had barely started the Harley when he hears Stiles mutter something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like _get a freaking helmet_.


	4. Discovery

So we all know that werewolves' kryptonite is wolfsbane (and mountain ash that I really didn't now much about because I started writing this at the end of season 1). But Stiles is smart and would have figured out something else. So I started playing around with what I remembered about chemistry, what Stiles could get his hands on and actually get away with, and ran into a memory of Silver Nitrate. It's used a lot in labs to highlight and stains certain particles so they become more visible when watching for reactions, and in developing film. It also stains the crap out of skin when it comes into contact with it.

Humans don't have reactions to wolfsbane... and everyone thought werewolves had reactions to silver so what if the silver Nitrate didn't stain them as it did to humans but burned them like acid? But when Silver Nitrate is made it creates a sub-compound that is called Silver Halide, otherwise known as AgX. Its's also used mostly in photograph development because of it's high light sensitivity. It's more potent because it is more refined than Silver Nitrate.

So in theory (or at least in my head) Silver Halide, AgX, is more refined and more potent than it's mother compound. And its just as easy to get on Ebay/Amazon with no suspicions being raised, especially if he throws in an offhand comment about it being for his friend Allison who's into photography. It's also easily water soluble so if their is any friendly fire the wolves just need to find a source of H2O and they'll be good to frolic off into the forest once again. (I also liked that it played into the Silver myth. Sue me for liking continuing mythologies, even if they are canonically incorrect, alright?)

There! A long forgotten explanation about the magical and mythical AgX!

* * *

Derek doesn't snoop. Well not really. Snooping is digging through stuff. Derek just... looks. So whenever he's in Scott's room he isn't snooping on the younger werewolf. He's just looking at all his stuff. His half finished homework, dirty socks, and the lacrosse equipment scattered here and there. The same old stuff he usually found littering the floor of his room before he turned Alpha and left. Now what he finds is something very interesting. Someone's started to tack pictures along Scott's wall above his desk. He says someone because the tacks are fluorescent pinks, greens, and blues. Not Scott's style but definitely his girlfriend's. The thing with these pictures is that there are quite a few of them ranging from when Scott was a kid to about two weeks ago at the state fair if the orange date at the bottom of it is accurate. The thing he founds most interesting though are the five pictures dated during the 6 months that he was gone. In the earliest picture it's Scott, Allison, Stiles, and that cute, vindictive little redhead Lydia.

They all look happy, except Lydia who looks annoyed. Derek can't recall if he's ever seen her be anything else. The next picture looks like some kind of school function. There are other kids in the background. But Lydia is nowhere to be found. Scott has his arms around Allison and Stiles is standing next to him a grim smile on his face. In the next picture, this time at a party, if the red solo cups have anything to say about it, is when his jacket makes an appearance. Once again Allison is snuggled close to Scott but Stiles is off to the side, looking away from the camera, a cup to his lips. In the next picture it's just Stiles and Scott. Scott's grinning at the camera and Stiles has a forced smile on, making what Derek can only assume is wolf ears made by hooking his pointer fingers above his friend's head. He assumes Allison took it. It's kind of fuzzy but he thinks Scotts mentioned something about her and cameras once. But that isn't important.

He leans closer to stare at the picture a little harder. Scott isn't wearing a jacket, just a long sleeved t-shirt. The guy that is photo bombing in the background is wearing the same. But Stiles is wearing his leather jacket. And he looks a little bit fuller in this picture, like he's put on some weight. Derek glances back to the last picture, pulls up his memories of the kid. The cuffs of his jacket aren't completely covering up his fingers anymore, now you can see them up until the first knuckle. He's gotten a little taller. From the hug they shared that morning he is more solid and his shoulders are a little more defined than what they once were. Derek notices that in the last picture Stiles isn't present at all.

"That's interesting."

The werewolf manages to make it out of Scott's room before he gets caught. The teen would smell him but Derek has bigger problems to worry about. Like Scott's mom, Melissa, plowing through the back door, her arms laden with groceries. Derek stands frozen at the foot of the stairs as she barks a question at him.

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help?"

He easily takes the massive load of bags from her and helps her drag the rest in from the car.

"Does Scott really eat this much?"

She laughs as she puts the eggs and milk in the fridge. It sounds full and warm.

"He eats like a teenager but I was told that the garage was officially rented out."

Derek bites his lip in annoyance. He was more than capable of handling his own business but he was kind of happy he didn't have to drop by the hospital to talk to her. He really hates the hospital. There was nothing but bad memories there.

"I didn't know what you liked to eat so I got a little of everything."

That pulls Derek out of his thoughts.

"Mrs. McCall, I wasn't expecting you to cook for me."

She tosses him a plastic bag of apples as she frowns at him. She does that very well.

"First things first? I am not Mrs. McCall, that's Scott's grandmother and I'm not ma'am. I'm Melissa. And who said I was cooking for you?"

The shock in his head must have read on his face because she laughs at him again as she puts cans away.

"When I'm not working nights I usually cook and you are more than welcome to join us. There isn't much of a kitchen in the garage apartment. Besides, getting a home cooked meal into you is the least I can do after what you've done for Scott."

That dumfounded look must have been back in full force because Mrs. McCall rests her hand on his forearm gently. He ignores the memory of his own mother touching him that way.

"Scott was struggling before he met you. He didn't have a role model and I could never fill the hole his dad left. But you, he looked up to you. Whatever you did, it changed him. His grades are better, he's never played this good before, he's happier. Being an accused murdered aside, you had a lot to do with that Derek. When you left I thought he would lose himself but he only grew more determined. He said you would come back."

She smiles at him, a sad, small thing.

"I didn't believe you would but Scott was just so sure. So was Stiles and Allison. Then when your house was condemned I thought the least I could offer you was a room over your head and a place to get back on your feet when you came back. But trust me; having you here is for selfish reasons. Scott, he needs you in his life. I can't give him what you can... and the gutters need to be fixed."

He laughs because that's all he can do as he tries to digest this information and gratitude. She hands him a stick of deodorant and a roll of wrapping tape for a lacrosse stick.

"Do you mind running this up to Scott's room for me?"

He nods, eager to have an excuse to track his scent through the boy's room. As he makes his way out of the homey kitchen he finds himself stopping short and looking back at her.

"For what its' worth, you're an amazing lady. You're the one that got them there. I only pushed him the rest of the way."

He heads up the stairs before she can argue and drops the stuff in Scoots room before telling Melissa good night and heading out to the garage apartment. He flips on the bedside lamp and pulls the dust cover off of the mattress. He sinks down to pull his boots off and to look around the room. It was sparse. A small refrigerator, microwave, old gas stove, sink, and cabinet took up one wall opposite the closed off staircase. There was a small coffee table and Scott's old sofa taking up the first half of the room. The McCall's had gotten a new one while he was away. The back of the sofa faced his bed which was an old queen sized mattress that had seen better days. He turns his head toward the door that lead to the bathroom that he had checked out earlier. It had a shower and all the essentials and wasn't as matchbook small as he had thought it would be. The apartment was open and it made it seem roomier. Whoever built the house and the garage knew what they were doing. The small spaces never felt confining only homey and comforting. As far the apartment went Derek had stayed in much worse, his half burnt house being one of them. He sighed and ran a hand over his face before tugging off his shirt heading over to the couch. He inhaled and the scent of Scott and his mom, Allison and Stiles fills his senses. It helps to ground him. He tries to clear his head as he stretches out on the couch. He has a lot to do tomorrow.

* * *

Stiles comes home from school and nearly has a heart attack when he finds Derek using his computer to look up something. The werewolf idly clicks on a website as Stiles tries to regain his breathing. He ends up pulling himself together and calmly telling Derek to hurry up because he had homework to do. Derek nods, much to Stiles's surprise, and begins exiting out of the windows. Stiles snorts as Derek takes his time to delete his browsing history. The teen made a crack about no more porn before shoving his binder on the desk and filling in the seat the werewolf had just vacated.

"So when did you get a tattoo?"

Stiles drops the books he was trying to balance on top of his laptop with a thud. He stares up to Derek with a deer in the headlights expression.

"How did you know that?"

When Derek offers no answer Stiles leans back in his chair and stage whispers, in a horror that may or may not be fake.

"Are you peeping on me!"

Derek frowns at him but taps his nose. Stiles pulls a mad face and shake his head incredulously as if to say_ so what_?

"Scott didn't smell it."

"Scott's not an alpha."

The werewolf watches him as he puts laptop down to walk over to the book shelf to tuck the fallen books away. He runs a hand over his buzz cut, a nervous tick that Derek has memorized.

"About four months back. The anniversary of my mom's death."

Derek notices that the teen doesn't broach the topic of his mother near his father and if he does he never mentions her death. But when he does speak of her to anyone else he never says passed or moved on. He always says that she is dead. He understands why. Dead means that they aren't coming back. Not that they passed on a diner invitation or moved on to Hawaii. Dead means dead. Derek nods silently. He asks something else that had been bothering, something he spotted in a picture in Scott's room.

"You're first line now."

A confused head tilt is all that answers him before Stiles nods.

"Danny broke his arm a few weeks after you left. It involved pudding and stairs and a party at Jackson's."

The rise of his heart beat tells Derek more than the look of shame written on the teen's face. He had something to do with it. Before he could ask Stiles the younger boy throws up his hand in a don't ask motion.

"You really don't want to know. So his goalie position opened up and he made me promise to try out for it. Even though I knew that it was the painkillers talking, I told him yes."

The smile that breaks out of his face is sudden and unexpected and, Derek realizes with a start, so good to see.

"Jackson was pissed and so was Coach, kinda. He had never let me try for the position before because I was such a shit mid fielder. Apparently I was "made for the position". It works with my ADHD. The ball's moving fast enough for me to keep up with. And apparently you, Scott, and your Uncle scaring the crap out of me helped heightened my reflex skills."

He shrugs at the last part like it's no big deal. Derek ignores the twinge of regret that sneaks up on him. Stiles would still be a normal kid if it wasn't for him, so would Scott. He clamps that thought and that feeling down. _Can't change the past._ Instead he nods his head in the direction of the bookshelf which housed nothing but a few books and cds before he left. Now it's overflowing with books and he'd finally gotten a cd tower.

"You really did throw yourself into research while I was away."

Stiles shrugs again but this time he rubs the back of his neck roughly, nervous tick #2.

"We needed answers."

He looks Derek dead in the eye as he says the last part. His voice hard, expression harder. Derek cannot help but to realize again, just how much the teen had changed.

"You were nowhere to be found. We were on our own. I did what I had to do."

The werewolf can hear the second meaning behind the words. _You abandoned use when we needed you_. He can practically taste the anger in his words and the heat behind them but chooses to ignore it. He deserves the anger. Instead he leans back in the chair he has occupied in the corner of Stiles room.

"So, what exactly were these experiments?"

Stiles grins but it looks forced.

"I've always loved show and tell."

They make their way to the big shed behind the Stilinski's house. Derek shouldn't have been surprised to find out what Stiles had concocted. He really shouldn't. But he is and he is also kind of proud of him. Only he would think of a paintball gun filled with wolfsbane injected paintballs. He tries not to laugh at how ridiculous the wolfsbane grenade was but after Stiles shows him a video of it in action on his phone exploding into one of the training dummies from the lacrosse team he has to admit that it would be useful to incapacitate another werewolf long enough for Stiles or Allison to get out of there.

"And you used Scott as a test subject."

It wasn't a question and it wasn't an angry statement so Stiles lets his excited grin break out over his face.

"No werewolves were harmed or at least seriously maimed during these experiments."

For his part, Derek tries to keep his anger under control. He tries to tell himself that Stiles didn't know any better and he wasn't there to teach Scott any better. His own guilt helps to keep him calm as he asks his next question.

"Let me see what you did with the AgX."

Stiles goes completely still. Derek can see his Adam's apple bob up and down violently as he swallows nervously before he leads Derek to the back of the old shed and pulls up a secret door hidden in the floorboards. He lifts away a matt soaked with gardening lime, enough to screw up even his Alpha nose, and lifts out what looks like a tranquilizer gun, four more grenades, and four pepper spray bottles. Derek shakes his head roughly to try to dislodge the sting of the silver halide in his senses. He breathes through his mouth instead. It's easier to ignore the tingle in his throat than the burn in his nose. He picks up one of the guns as Stiles shuffles his feet next to him.

"I kind of borrowed it from the Sheriff's office. I can't believe they haven't noticed it was missing."

He ignores him to open the chamber to see a clear dart filled with silver metallic liquid. He glances at the grenade and points to the black leather pepper spray holsters. Stiles nods.

"Filled with it."

"Where did you even get this stuff?"

The teen plunks one of the extra magazines, "Ebay."

Derek fights away the need to ask how Stiles learned to do this, to refill pepper spray cans or how he even thought of using Silver Halide, but he'd rather not know. He puts the gun back down and lifts up one of the black leather cases. From the weight and the permeating smell he knows how dangerous it is.

"It's enough to blind a werewolf if you get a clear shot, any skin contact and they'd be down for a while."

Stiles shakes his head in the affirmative. He knows it all too well from his experiment with Scott. It's why he has it hidden and limed in his shed. He's not proud of what he did but he'd rather be safe than sorry if another batshit Alpha showed up, or worse if a batshit Derek showed up. The teen helps put the weapons back and recovers them all. They walk in silence back to the house and into the kitchen. Stiles catches Derek rubbing a hand at his throat out of the corner of his eye. He digs up a bottle of water from the fridge and hands it to him.

"It helps with the burn."

Stiles was aware that Derek was following him to his bedroom. So he chose not to comment on it as he slumps back into his desk chair to start on his homework. Derek's voice pulls his attention away.

"The flowers on her grave, they were the same flowers on your mom's."

Derek visited the grave in the family plot earlier in the morning after speaking to the Sheriff again. Sheriff Stilinski told him about Scott and Stiles wanting to lay her to rest with the rest of her family. The Sheriff had personally seen to the excavation of her old grave and her being buried in her new one in the cemetery. He took care to bury her with wolfsbane to keep her in her human form. Derek had noticed the flowers as he walked out of the cemetery.

Now biology seems like an immensely interesting topic and Stiles has a fleeting thought that he should just ignore the statement. If only to not let Derek see the shock on his face. But Stiles turns to face him. He opens and shuts his mouth as words tumble around in his head. The _after you left_ almost leaves his mouth before he catches himself with a deep breath.

"After she was moved into the cemetery nobody bothered to visit. There were always flowers on her grave in the woods. It just felt wrong, her not having any. Besides, I don't think my mom would mind sharing. She was like that."

He watches as something in Derek's face changes, like a shadow passing over it. He nods his head slowly, once, almost in acknowledgement of Stiles's loss and his pain.

"She sounds like she was a great mom."

Stiles smiles slowly, ignoring the memories that crop up in his head and the tears that still make his vision go a little watery.

"She was an awesome mom."

The werewolf lingers for a second, watching the teen, his nose twitching, before he turns and ducks out of the window. Stiles recovers enough to yell after him.

"NEXT TIME USE THE FREAKING DOOR!"


	5. Awakening

This chapter is far from my favorite but it provides a lot of back story and some much needed explanations that will help clear some things up a bit.

* * *

It's weird to walk into your kitchen to find Derek Hale helping himself to a cup of coffee. It's even weirder when he's your Alpha. Scott manages to only pause as he recognizes this. He reaches into a cabinet and pulls out a package of pop tarts. Derek catches him before he darts back upstairs to get ready for school.

"There's a pack meeting in my apartment tonight after lacrosse."

He nods and tries to keep this as un-awkward as possible.

"Yeah, I'll tell Allison and Stiles."

They share a heavy silence. Scott shifts from one foot to another and scratches at his head.

"So, would now be a good time to tell you that I don't usually walk around half naked in the mornings."

Derek just takes his coffee and ignores the teen wearing only a fluffy blue towel.

"It's your house."

Scott stares at his back headed toward the garage door and groans.

"This isn't going to be weird, _at all_."

* * *

He really doesn't expect the rap on the open door, not after all the times he's just barged into Stiles's room with no warning and no permission. He looks up briefly from what he's doing by the sink to acknowledge the teen.

"You're early."

Derek notices that his short cropped hair is still damp and that his shirt is wet around the collar. He hears Stiles put the plastic bags filled with cartons of take out on the coffee table as he puts away some plates that Mrs. McCall had dug up from the basement. He catches the teen shrug out of the corner of his eye as he starts to take out the cartons of food and place them on the coffee table.

"Mr. Argent isn't too happy to have an Alpha back in town. Mrs. Argent isn't too happy that her daughter is friends with said Alpha."

Derek understands that Scott and Allison might be late. He hasn't forgotten that Stiles has trouble getting to the point. He hasn't forgotten but it still kind of annoys him. He hopes the teen will let him finish putting away his stuff away in peace, but Stiles has never just let a quiet moment live. He starts to talk again as he makes himself at home on the couch.

"So how much did it cost you to get the Camaro out?"

He noticed the car parked out front, of course. The kid can't sit still for more than a minute at a time but he isn't stupid.

"A few grand but your dad helped knock it down some."

Stiles stiffens a little at that and swallows nervously as he breaks apart chopsticks. Derek notices that the young boy won't look at him. He can pick up his anxiety from across the small room.

"So, I assume you've talk to him about the whole werewolf thing."

Derek can say that as far as law enforcement goes Mr. Stilinski is a no bullshit sheriff. He sticks to the law and, unlike his son, gets right to the point. He's a good man, one that cares about his family and the community he protects. They covered the basics, how the fire really happened, his family, how he became the Alpha, how his son and his best friend and his best friend's girlfriend got involved. They talked about Lydia and the Argents. He didn't want to get into the politics of it, not the hunters' or the werewolves', and didn't need all the details. As long as the hunters kept to their code and the wolves kept to theirs the Sheriff had no problem with them living in the same town. He seemed to be fine with the fact that being in Derek's pack meant protection for Stiles and his friends and that Derek was worthy of his trust even with his past transgressions (mostly because of his son). But he would have to excuse the Sheriff if that trust was a little lax on and around the full moon. The werewolf pulls himself away from the kitchen counter and walks the short distance to the small living room area to sit in the arm chair that was in relatively new condition and questionably acquired. Or at least that's what Stiles's expression is telling him. He sniffs out a carton of Mongolian beef as Stiles stares at him questioningly, eyebrows raised.

"We have an understanding. He assures me that the barrel of his shotgun is the last thing I will see if anything like what happened a half a year ago ever happens again."

Stiles hand stops with a chopstick full of noodles halfway to his mouth to look at Derek to gage his reaction. He has to scramble to catch the noodles that almost fall into his lap.

"Soooooo, you're fixing up your house?'

He frowns at the teen.

"How do you know that?"

Stiles shrugs as he munches on an eggroll with a knowing grin.

"I have eyes and ears on everything that happens in this town."

Derek hardly doubts that but he knows what Stiles is capable of. The boy knows how to dig up dirt. Derek usually exploits that fact and uses it to his advantage. He just doesn't seem to have the same enjoyment now, not when Stiles is digging up dirt on him.

"The insurance policy that my Uncle had was defaulted to me. Combined with the rest of the insurance money from the fire and my sister… I might as well put it to good use."

"So does that mean you're staying permanently?"

The door cuts off whatever conversation they were having as Scott laughs pulling Allison in behind him.

"Your mom's face was priceless."

"She didn't expect my dad to let me go… neither did I."

He hugs her to his side as he waves to Derek and Stiles. They fall into the couch between the alpha and Stiles.

"When your dad isn't trying to kill things he's a pretty nice guy, but your mom? Wicked scary."

Allison smacks his shoulder and Scott cuffs the back of his head. Derek huffs into his food as he nods at them in welcome.

"Glad he let you come over."

Scott senses the annoyance of his Alpha. He frowns at him.

"Would there be a problem if he didn't let her come."

Derek shrugs, "she is pack. She has a right to be here but he father is still her father. If he kept her against her will or never let her come to a meeting we might have had an issue."

He watches as Scott turns to glance at Allison who nervously hunches her shoulders and gives him a pointed look. Stiles catches it and leans closer as his best friend starts to talk.

"He kind of wants to talk to you."

Derek can sense the anxiety pouring off of Allison. Stiles throws an arm over her shoulders and jostles her playfully as Scott takes her hand.

"We need to straighten some things out. But that's between me and him."

Stiles jumps right in, disbelief written across his pale features.

"Yeah, because that always goes so well. We do this all together."

He watches them for a second. Stiles has that hard, determined glint to his eyes. Scott is frowning at him and Allison still looks anxious, smells anxious but is watching him with hopeful eyes. Derek knows that they would just annoy him until he agrees. And if he didn't agree they would find some way to crash the meeting anyway. He knows it without a doubt. He grimaces.

"Fine."

"I'll arrange it."

Derek tilts his head at Scott. Normally the boy avoided contact with Allison's father like the plague, at least he did before. It's strange to see him assert himself.

"So why are we here anyway?"

He can feel Allison's relief pouring off of her in swells. She gives him a gentle smile. It reminds him of Laura before the fire. He pushes the thought away and focuses on the now. He is pleased to see both Allison and Stiles wearing their signet rings. They all seem happy, content. It calms him but does nothing for the sudden bite of nervous anticipation he feels. They have a lot to talk about. He begins with what happens after he left Beacon Hills.

"Lydia found me when I went to Seattle."

There's a mix of emotions. It's easy to pick them apart. Disbelief and hurt from Scott, confusion and understanding from Allison, anger and disappointment from Stiles… which is interesting.

"She will always be connected to me, this pack in some way. Whether she turns in a year from now or never at all, she will be welcome here."

Stiles nods his head and uses his chopsticks to making a rolling motion, impatient, as he eats. Allison giggles and Scott rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah but what do you mean if she turns? From what I researched she is one of the few people who don't turn after being bitten. I mean if I knew she could turn we would have tried to keep her here, with us, in Beacon Hills."

Derek has to take a minute to understand this because there is anger in his scent. It's that same sharp and bitter flavor as before, even if the teen is trying not to show it. Derek writes it off as the teen still having a thing for Lydia and being pissed off that she left town.

"Someone in her family line carried the gene. It either got genetically weaker over time and the genes were recessed or the lycanthropy gene was killed off in her line but she was still left with faint carrier genes. She was in the hospital so long because her body was adjusting from the cell up. Some are lucky and can carry the gene their whole lives and it never takes root, others… aren't."

Allison has Scott's hand pulled in her lap, playing with his fingers as she speaks to him.

"So that's what you meant when you kept telling me that she didn't smell different, just new?"

He nods solemnly and turns to Derek still turning the information over in his head.

"She smelt like she always did but there was something I couldn't put my finger on, something new about her scent."

Stiles jumps in now features bright, brown eyes shining with understanding. The change in attitude is abrupt and hardly unwelcomed but Derek can admit that he hasn't missed that look. That was the same look that almost got Stiles killed or maimed on more than one occasion, that got them all almost killed or maimed on more than one occasion.

"So that's why we couldn't tell she was a werewolf because she carried the genes and you were used to it!"

Stiles smacks his best friend's shoulder with the flat of his hand but his triumph is shortly lived as Derek levels him with a glare. Turning isn't something he should be so happy about. It helps Derek's annoyance to watch Stiles's cheery mood deflate as he sinks back into the couch.

"How can we tell if she does change?"

He looks over to Allison to catch her watching Stiles in a quick side glance. He ignores her to play with his ring. The observation is curious but he lets it slide to look down at his hands and tries to think of the best way to explain it. When he can't come up with anything that will make sense to his human packmates he shrugs his shoulders.

"I'll know. She's part of my pack now."

Stiles doesn't seem to like that answer. He leans forward again, eager, like an annoying little puppy that doesn't understand he's done something wrong. Derek has to resist the urge to flick him on the nose, hard.

"But shouldn't she come back to Beacon Hills? What if she turns and does something-"

Derek stands up suddenly and paces once, twice in front of his chair and enjoys the silence that it pulls out of Stiles. This was harder than he thought. Before it was easy to ignore their emotions, their opinions, them. Now it's like he's thrown into the arctic. It's shocking and jolting and he feels like he's sinking. But it feels too familiar, too well learned. It is missed. He is angry because he's missed them and is angry that he's missed being in a pack. He used to be good at it, with his family, and back when it was just him and Lara. But so many things have changed since then. He has changed. His patience has changed and they aren't wolves, not born wolves. Things need to be taught and learned and explained. It is his job as Alpha to do it. He came back to do it, to guide his pack. He turns and faces them again.

"I'm her Alpha now. I'll know. There will be signs, she knows what they are. It's not going to be a sudden change like Scott's."

Suddenly Stiles is flailing, chopsticks flinging noodles on his carpet as he bounces up excitedly.

"The curse wasn't transmitted through the bite, just awoken… like in _Resident Evil_!"

Derek glares at him but it's an okay analogy. The acceptance must read on his face because Stiles grins and punches Scott's shoulder gleefully. Derek feels his eyebrows nit together. He didn't want to encourage the teen.

"Why Seattle?"

Scott is asking now, his brown eyes confused.

"I used to live there. I still had some things in storage."

Stiles mutters something about his bike. Derek ignores him to focus on the younger beta whose eyes were taking on a golden hue. He understands that Scott is unconsciously reacting to his wolf's emotions. They need to work on that. Being able to distinguish between what the wolf feels and what you feel might mean the difference between life and death for someone in this town or someone in this room.

"I didn't stay in Seattle. I left after I got what I needed. It was too dangerous for me to stay in a city that big without learning how to control the Alpha. I went to a wildlife reservation in Mount Rainer. I went to someone who could help me learn how to control the Alpha, a shifter. Dr. Deaton-"

Stiles almost twitches off of the couch and yeah, Derek would have liked to see that.

"Dr. Deaton? He's a shifter?... that actually explains a lot."

Derek can almost hear Stiles's brain churning the information over. Scott just looks amusedly at his best friend.

"Did you ever wonder why your boss never questioned your injuries or the fact that he found you bloodied and naked on more than one occasion?"

The Alpha watches as his Beta shrugs with a half grin on his face.

"Not really. I've known him my whole life and I've worked with him since I was sixteen. He's the second person on my emergency contact list."

"So, that's the reason Scott trusted him? And why Peter wouldn't challenge him outright? Why Scott couldn't explain what he was?"

Derek feels a little proud of his pack. They are smart, resourceful, have good instincts. Even if they annoy him sometimes, never do what they're told, and don't really know how to shut up or listen.

"We call shifters Shaman's. To be able to claim a form a shifter has to be completely one with the animal. It takes years to gain control like that. Some shifters can take the shape of only one animal; others can take the shape of ten. They live longer than most werewolves. We seek shifters out because they can help us better understand our wolves."

Scott leans forward on his elbows, face confused.

"But why didn't you just go to Dr. Deaton? Why did you go to Washington?"

Stile answers for him.

"Dude, do you even remember that whole "we think you're the Alpha," almost getting him killed by the real Alpha incident? And besides, he's not a wolf."

Derek blinks at Stiles but his grin doesn't falter. It's smug and yeah, the urge to swat him on the nose is there again.

"No, he isn't. But I couldn't go through the transition in familiar territory. I needed open space and miles between me and anything that I've known. Beacon Hills was too small. Too many people could have gotten hurt."

Scott's voice is low now, and soft. He remembers how he went after the people familiar to him, went to the places most familiar to him when he turned. He sounds amazed when he speaks, amazed and a little bit guilty for reacting so strongly before.

"Seattle is too big. You would have exposed us all."

Allison's voice is quiet and reserved.

"You left because you needed to protect us."

Derek nods his head. If Scott had any redeeming qualities it's that he picked an intelligent, kind, level headed girl that could protect herself, even if she was a hunter. He grudgingly reminds himself to talk to Scott about that, somewhere quiet and away from breakable things.

"Dr. Deacon has been watching out for you, Scott especially. He would have contacted me if anything went wrong."

Stiles looks at him with a hard expression. He doesn't accept than answer.

"You did what you had to do to keep us all safe. I get that. We all do. But we deserve some kind of explanation. We looked for you. For six months Derek. We searched for you."

Scott has the decency to elbow his best friend in the ribs because he can sense Derek's anger. He sinks back into the armchair and glowers at the teen. Stiles seems to take the hint and shifts his body away from him which is good, submissive, but he doesn't back down. He keeps his head up and glare in full force. Derek fights the growl that wants to come rumbling out of his chest in frustration. He knows that eventually the kid would wear him down and his wolf is not happy with it. He pinches the bridge of his nose. Only he would have the most nosy, annoying human as an accepted pack member. He drops his hand to look at the kids in front of him.

"I should have never left you without warning but I had to leave. If I would have stayed I would have put all of you in danger. I'm sorry for not telling any of you but I will not apologize for leaving. You are my pack. It's my job to protect you. The only way I could do that was to leave and learn how to control my wolf again."

He lets that sink in, his pack accepting his explanation, before he speaks again.

"Scott we're going to start training again, if you still want to."

Scott pulls his confused face which makes Derek confused.

"Why wouldn't I want to? No offense to Stiles, but it would be nice to train with someone that doesn't make jokes about me killing bunnies on a regular basis. Besides… it was only the one time."

"Yeah, and I had to clean your kitchen before your mom found it so I can crack all the bunny jokes I want, thank you very much."

Allison scrunches up her nose and reaches around her boyfriend to shove at Stiles's shoulder.

"Thanks for bringing that memory up while we're eating."

He sticks his tongue at her but passes her the carton of fried rice. Derek can only watch in silence as his pack goes about their business like the previous conversation hadn't taken place. Even his confused voice doesn't surprise them.

"That's it?"

Stiles grins at him, eyes bright with laughter now, anger either long forgotten or well buried.

"Did you really think we wouldn't be happy to see you if killing the alpha would have cured Scott?"

Derek honestly doesn't know what to say. He'd thought about it earlier. Maybe they understood why he did it. Maybe they were just afraid of him. He's disappointed that it's not the later. Everything was easier when they were terrified of him. Especially Stiles. He didn't talk as much, or he at least shut up faster.

"We get it. You lied to Scott in the first place to get him to help you. Not cool, but it did stop the murdering psycho werewolf, no offense."

Stiles pauses to hold his hands out in front of him in a defensive motion before speaking again.

"But what you did to protect Scott from having to become the Alpha? That we can't be mad at you for."

He sits there silently because he was expecting a fight, or unrelenting anger and resentment, or a demand for more explanations, or a demand for a better one. But they get it. They accept it. They can move on. He realizes that the fear he felt about coming back, fear of their reactions, the fear of losing another pack, is gone just like that. He feels the tightness in his shoulders evaporate as Allison reaches across the short distance to wrap a slender hand around his forearm. She squeezes gently as she smiles at him, browns eyes soft.

"Welcome back Derek."

Scott grins as he wraps an arm around her as she leans back into him on the couch. Stiles salutes him mockingly with a wide grin. Derek feels his face shift, to give them a smile too. It's strange to feel the lightness in his chest. His wolf hums happily. _Pack. _It startles him, the happiness, the feeling of let it sink in, he lets himself remember, before he shoves that feeling back, because there is still business to get out of the way.

"Pack meetings every Monday, training on Wednesdays. Closer to the full moon it'll be just me and Scott."

Stiles goes to protest and Allison has a finger in the air about to speak when Derek fixes them with a stern look and low growl. He lets the Alpha slips out for a heartbeat before he pulls him back in. This is not up for debate. His control is not as strong as it was before. Scott still needs more training though Derek can tell from his first night back he's gotten stronger, they all have. But Derek will not chance slipping, not with human pack members present. It could be deadly. He watches as they all share looks. Scott and Allison seem to have a silent conversation between them before she nods eagerly and he kisses her temple. Stiles seems to get what they say because he rolls his eyes at them and agrees.

"Fine. Are we done now?"

Derek nods because he's said all he had wanted to say, and he can't really understand how it went so smoothly. He watches in confusion as Stiles hops of the couch and pulls a DVD out of the take out bag. He jogs the short distance to the plasma screen mounted on the wall to slip the DVD into the sleek player. He works it like he's used it a million times before. He can hear Stiles mutter, "I wonder where you got this." But he can pick up the amused tone in his voice and lets it slide. The teen manages to make it back to the couch and has the DVD already set on the Menu screen all without facing the TV. He grins as he hits play on the remote and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. Derek sends him a glare.

"What are you doing?"

Stiles tucks into his noodles but spares him a grin, purposely ignoring the look Derek's giving his feet and stretching out.

"Bonding."

Derek feels the need to smack him, his whole face and not just his nose his time, but ignores the instinct. Instead he sinks lower in his chair and props his feet up on the coffee table. If he knocks Stile's legs down he doesn't notice. He can see the teen flash him a smile in the now dark room as Allison falls back down to the couch and into Scott's arms. Suddenly his nose catches the sharp despair of sadness before it's gone. He blinks at Stiles and his blank face as he sets the volume like he wants it.

"What are we watching?"

He grins and Derek feels like it's too easy. It doesn't look right and before Derek can figure out why Stiles turns his face so his eyes are cast in shadow. Derek can't make out his eyes, even with his vision. This is the third time in as many days that he's let his emotions slip. Derek has a fleeting thought that it might just be the Alpha. His senses are more heightened. But they weren't like before; they were stronger, more potent. And it wasn't like Stiles to let his emotions spiral out of control or leek out all over the place.

"Constantine. I've got to educate all your sorry asses about good Cinematography."

He's happy now. Derek can feel it. So he lets it go, for now. He turns his face back to the TV and the opening credits and wonders how Stiles has managed to keep this secret from Scott, but seeing the Beta wrapped around his girlfriend, oblivious to his best friend sitting beside him, he understands. He feels his own annoyance flare and doesn't do anything to stop it. Scott picks up on it and sits up a little straighter, pulls his hands away from Allison's hips. She blushes. Scott looks mortified but Derek doesn't turn to acknowledge him. The movie plays on and Stiles throws bits of information in here and there, rewinds certain parts, explains the mythology and theology, talks about cats and water and angels. Derek doesn't mind like he normally does. It's comforting, the noise in the background, their voices and laughter, the sound of them, their smell. His pack together, happy, calm, and safe. Derek feels contentment hum through him. It's not until the movie is over and Scott hops up to put in something called _Pitch Black_ from the Chronicles of Riddick that Derek looks over to see Stiles slumped down on the couch, neck craned to the side to rest against the dark red cushion as he sleeps. He hadn't noticed the teen had grown quiet. He's about to go back to watching the new movie when he hears it. Stiles heart beat starting to race. He can pick up the adrenaline starting to spread into the teen's bloodstream. Fear grips his sense. Stiles is afraid, he can smell it. Scott stiffens next to him as he recognizes his Alpha's reaction and his best friend's distressed scent and turns to Stiles. Derek doesn't move but calls out his name firmly, the Alpha pouring out into the words.

"_Stiles_."

The teen jerks awake with a gasp. When he meets Derek eyes fear rolls off of him like a wave. It crashes against Derek so strongly it takes him off guard. His hands tighten in anger because he can clearly see the fear in the teen's eyes and he knows exactly what put it there. He moves to stand and Stiles reacts like a scared dog. He flinches and jumps up from the couch.

"I forget just how much the damned souls scare the crap out of me. Sorry for falling asleep. I haven't gotten much lately."

He glances down at his phone on the coffee table and curses, a new trill of fear floating through the room. This time that fear is laced with dread.

"My dad is going to murder me."

Stiles pulls his jacket on and heads toward the door tripping on the rug as he stops short and turns.

"We have training tomorrow?"

Derek's voice is controlled as he answers.

"Just Scott."

Stiles face is disappointed but he nods and waves a hand over his shoulder.

"If I don't survive, donate my stuff to charity."

After Stiles leaves Scott helps Allison pick up the garbage as Derek shuts off the movie and puts the DVDs on the coffee table. Allison beams at him by the door as Scott helps her into her jacket.

"See you tomorrow."

He manages to tell them goodnight without growling. He sinks into the sofa as he hears Allison's car back out of the driveway. He tries to sleep but Stiles scent, drowned in fear, keeps him awake.


	6. Family

This chapter is on the dense side, mostly because I can never decide on a good stopping point. The poem that starts the chapter off is what tempted me to write this. I think it fits Stiles and Derek so perfectly. Enjoy!

* * *

What would you like? I'd like my money's worth.  
Try explaining a life bundled with episodes of this—  
swallowing mud, swallowing glass, the smell of blood  
on the first four knuckles.  
We pull our boots on with both hands  
but we can't punch ourselves awake and all I can do  
is stand on the curb and say _Sorry_  
about the blood in your mouth. I wish it was mine.

I couldn't get the boy to kill me, but I wore his jacket for the longest time.

- "Little Beast", _Crush_ by Richard Siken

* * *

"Pack means family."

Scott picks himself up, still controlling the anger boiling over inside, still ignoring the wolf rattling its cage. This is not how he imagined training would go. He thought Derek will drill him into the ground, make him run up trees, or carry boulders around, or run up trees while carrying boulders. He expected something, anything, a thousand and one other things. But getting thrown through a tree? Yeah, not exactly what he had in mind. Neither is the stern lecture his Alpha is spouting for that matter. They are in the woods at the far edge of the Hale property, far enough that the dull noise of the city is gone. Scott knew how vast the Hale land stretched, how far it extended because Stiles had made him run it almost every full moon to let off steam. He felt linked, being on ground that belonged to his Alpha. It helped to have that minuscule connection. He hadn't needed to be locked up, at least not the whole night anymore. He could control himself… better. He bites back his anger and takes a deep breath, feels proud when he looks down at his hands and they are still his hands and not the wolf's claws. He does shove Derek back though, because he isn't going to be pushed around and getting yelled at for no reason at all.

"I GET that."

He was there at the scenting and at the pack meeting. He heard that loud and clear. He wasn't that stupid. But maybe he is because he doesn't expect Derek to grab him and slam him against another tree, hard enough that a few loose limbs crash into other branches as they fall to the ground around them. This tree doesn't snap though as Derek gets far into his personal space and snarls.

"Do you!?"

Derek slams him back again, bark digging into the back of his shirt roughly.

"Then did you know where Stiles was the last four months?"

Scott doesn't fight back this time. He just goes limp in Derek's hands because what? Derek still shoves him hard against the tree, his nostrils flaring at the scent of Scott's blood. The Alpha relaxes his hands and lets Scott's shirt go. He takes a step back and breathes deeply as he faces the stunned teen with a hard glare.

"Do you have any idea what he went through? What Peter, waht you put him through?"

Scott blinks at him, because he really has no clue what he's talking about. He is the one that can definitely understand what the hell Peter put them all through seeing as Peter was trying to make him kill everyone he loves. But he doesn't get what Derek is saying. He doesn't get why he's talking about Stiles. Derek seems to get that because he glares at him, eyes flashing annoyance.

"You were so focused on protecting Allison and I understand that. But did you for one minute think about Stiles? That he needed protection too? That he needed someone to be there for him?"

Derek cuts off a growl and Scott understands that he's struggling to keep in control. He can feel the anger rolling off of Derek in waves. But it's not like what he felt when the Alpha was Peter. That wasn't rage, this, this was self loathing. Scott feels his eyebrows pull together in confusion. He is missing something and the dots just aren't connecting.

"We don't abandoned family."

Suddenly anger is all he feels, and white hot resentment, overpowering his confusion. His fangs bite into his lip as he snarls at Derek, at his Alpha. His wolf is drowning in a fury he didn't even know he was clinging to.

"YOU ABANDODED YOUR FAMILY! YOUR PACK! YOU LEFT! I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT I SUPPOSED TO DO!"

Derek handles it better than Scott expects. He breathes past the anger, drowns it out, eyes fading until they are completely humans eye again. He ignores Scott's golden, glaring eyes that shine in the half darkness. He talks to him like he isn't transformed, like he can't tell Scott is more wolf that human now.

"I had to leave. You know that. But I only left because I thought you could handle it."

Scott tries to breathe past the anger but he can't because he did what he thought he was supposed to do. He did the best he could and Derek can go screw himself because he left them. He left _them_.

"I looked after the pack."

Scott's words are more growls than human speech, full of hatred and anger and accusation. Derek rounds on his again, eyes now flashing that alpha red-blue.

"You kept them together and safe. You did that right, at least. But Stiles needed his best friend. And you let him down."

Derek stares at him, jaw tense and eyes hard. Scott tried to say that he was there for Stiles but Derek cuts him off.

"He threw himself headfirst into research. He almost killed you with the AgX. He started to withdraw from you and Allison, her started to pull away from pack. Scott, did you even know about the nightmares?"

Scott shakes his head slowly. He can remember Stiles getting the whole Derek Alert going with the surrounding police stations and the wildlife service. He remembers being there the night they decided to clue in his dad. He also remembers all of the experiments. The water pistol of wolfsbane was hilarious, he could smell it a mile off. The paintball gun wasn't. The paint in the balls masked the smell of the injection and it hurt like a bitch when it contacted skin and screwed with his senses. Then there was the AgX. He can still feel his skin puckering and blistering like the worst second degree burn. By the time they made it to the ER it was slowly healing and he'd gotten treatment for pretty bad 1st degree burns and a pretty bad tongue lashing from his mom about not hopping any more bonfires to impress the girl that was already his girlfriend. It took a lot of maneuvering to avoid her for a week so she couldn't see that he was completely okay. He remembers Stiles apologizing and smelling guilty and then he remembers Stiles just not being there. They texted but he never came over anymore. He remembers not even noticing Stiles was gone. No mention of more experiments. No mentions of nightmares. No mention of his mom. Scott feels like somebody just sucker punched him as he stumbles through his mental calendar. He's missed the anniversary of Stiles's mom's death. His anger shrinks to nothing.

"You abandoned a part of your family Scott."

Scott slowly sinks to the ground as his confusion and anger burns away to disbelief as he feels what Derek's feeling. There is the harsh edge of self loathing but he doesn't need to feel the disappointment from his Alpha to make him feel useless.

"He was fine. He was just _Stiles_, like always. Then the experiments, the training… he started, started to keep to himself. I just thought he was upset about Lydia leaving. I thought Stiles was okay. He told me that he was okay. He told me, he was. I-I, didn't – I forgot about his mom's death. I forgot. Fuck. What can I do Derek? What can we do?"

The older werewolf unclenches his hands and shakes his head. Breathe streaming out around him as he sighs. He looks down at the younger werewolf.

"Nothing. He found a way to manage on his own but he shouldn't have."

Scott doesn't move as he thinks. His voice is small when he finally speaks.

"I kept it together the best I could, the best we all could. I didn't realize he was picking up the slack. He always picks up the slack. He's always the one that's there when I need him."

Derek crouches down to look him in the eye.

"You ever stopped to think that he's the one that needed you this time?"

Scott doesn't meet his eyes. He hears more than sees Derek stand as he speaks.

"Stiles needed us. We weren't there for him. We are pack. We look out for each other. This won't happen again."

Scott throws his head against the tree behind him in frustration, half listening to Derek.

"I can't fucking believe I forgot about his mom's anniversary."

Scott wants to throw his head back into the tree again but Derek's shoes appear in his line of sight. He looks up to see his Alpha offering him a hand. Scott accepts it. Once he's on his feet he slowly follows Derek out of the forest, so wrapped up in how much of an idiot he is that he almost misses Derek speaking.

"Sorry about throwing you into a tree."

Scott falls into step with him and shrugs. Some of the bark falls out of where it's eaten into his shirt. He never apologized for losing control and trying to kill Derek. He doesn't think he's ever really, truly apologized from trying to maim Stiles all those times. The guilt digs deeper into his heart.

"I deserved it."

After that silence between them is heavy, weighted, both werewolves lost in their own thoughts. It isn't until they arrive back at the Hale House and Derek is turning over the engine as Scott slips into the passenger seat of the sleek black Camaro that they speak again.

"For what it's worth, nobody got killed."

Scott knows there's a backhanded compliment somewhere in there but he still feels like an ass.

* * *

The next time Stiles sees Scott it's in the middle of the crowded hallway in between classes, with everyone walking past them. That's probably what makes Scott wrapping him in a bone crushing hug really awkward. Well that and the immensely entertained and curious look Danny is currently giving him. Stiles tries to shove Scott off but there's a problem with his hands being pinned to his side by his best friend utilizing his super special werewolf hugging powers. So he lets Scott hug it out and tries to mentally extinguish the bright red blush he feels creeping up his face and neck.

"Dude, this isn't really the place…"

Scott only hugs him harder.

"Is everything okay? Is Allison alright?"

He panics when Scott doesn't answer him and just buries his face further into his shoulder as he mutters a yeah.

"Is your mom okay? Did you set the toaster on fire again? Because I told you, that isn't how you make grilled cheese. Dude, did Coach bench you because of your calculus grade? We can study some more. You can always do the extra credit-"

Scott pulls away and he looks like he's about to cry. Stiles feels his stomach bottom out. Scot doesn't cry about stuff. The last time he really cried in front of him was Stiles's mom's… Anxiety grips Stiles tightly and he shakes Scott as he grabs his arms roughly.

"Is my dad okay? Scott, is my dad okay!?"

Scott manages to nod as Stiles takes a deep breath. He even lets Stiles drag him into an empty classroom without resisting.

"How about Derek? Is he still broody? Dude, give me something, you are freaking me out!"

Scott seems deflated as he slumps on a desk in front of the class.

"I am the shittiest best friend."

Stiles gives him a blank stare.

"Yeah well, tell me something I don't know."

Scott looks like Stiles just kicked his puppy and okay, that makes him feel bad so he backtracks.

"You are, alright? But you're the only one I've got. So can you please tell me what's going on? I don't think physically assaulting someone through hugging in a packed hall filled with our very gossipy peers is the best answer for it or anyhting for that matter."

Scott goes to hug him again but he throws an arm up to block him.

"Seriously!? What is up with you! Is it some weird bro bonding thing? Is it a wolf thing?"

Scott seems to deflate again and looks at Stiles like he's about to cry.

"Stiles, I forgot about your mom's anniversary."

Yeah, Stiles had noticed. It hurt but it's not like the years before where he'd start shutting down the closer the date got. He wanted Scott to notice and to be his best friend but he didn't need him to help Stiles pick up the pieces of himself this year. And he really couldn't fault him for forgetting. He had to deal with the fact that his girlfriend's parents wanted to shoot him, a missing alpha that may or may not be batshit crazy, and learning how to control himself from the half right and almost always sketchy information they could gather from the internet, Stiles's research and lore, and what Allison could pry out of her parents. So no, he couldn't really fault Scott for forgetting. Especially since he almost forgot. The day just kind of snuck up on him. In seven years he's always dreaded November, dreaded the 4th, dreaded every second of that day. But he'd woken up and was halfway through brushing his teeth when he had realized the date and was downstairs and met with the strong smell of whiskey when he truly remembered that his mom wasn't ever going to laugh again. He takes a breath and rests his hand against his ribs, finger tips pressing lightly over the date tattooed on his left side before he pushes all those thoughts away.

"Scott, it's okay."

Scott shakes his head angrily.

"No, it isn't Stiles! I didn't remember. I didn't even notice that you sort of disappeared for four months. I'm your best friend and you're like my brother and Derek noticed and he wasn't even here!"

"Derek? Derek noticed what?"

Scott looks up but doesn't meet his eyes. Stiles has been Scott's best friend for so long he knows that the kid can't think fast on his feet, verbally at least. He also knows that when Scott is put into a situation that he wants to avoid he lies and tries to change the topic. Too bad Scott can't tell a lie to save his life, except with his evil werewolf alter ego takes over (and that had only been the once), and his change of topics are things that even Stiles can't follow. So Scott developed the look-anywhere-but-at-the-person-you're-lying-to method to try to counteract his sucky lie-and-change-to-the-most-random-topic-ever method. Even though it didn't work back then and it definitely doesn't work now he still uses it. Scott's never had the best self preservation instincts. And noticing his friend's blatant avoidance tells makes Stiles's spidey senses tingle. He speaks before Scott can try and fail to change the topic.

"What the hell did he tell you Scott?"

Stiles was glad he had years to develop an immunity to Scott's puppy dog eyes. That was about the only aversion tactic he has and that actually works. But Stiles doesn't flinch. He just meets them head on and makes a get on with it motion with his hand. He was also glad that he learned to replicate his dad's Sheriff voice. It probably happened from being on the receiving end of it so much. It had some weird power behind it that made people sit up a little straighter and listen. Stiles tries not to use the force for evil but extenuating circumstances…

"Spill."

It was lucky that the hunters caught Derek instead of Scott because Scott spills his guts like a piñata at a 7-year-old's Hello Kitty themed birthday party.

* * *

Stiles storms into Derek's apartment. He doesn't even care if Derek is busy on the phone. He rips it out of his hand and cancels the call. Then he punches Derek. Twice. In the jaw. Hard. He ignores the pain in his fist as he jabs a finger at the glaring Alpha's face.

"Where to you get off telling my best friend that I'm emotionally broken and going through some kind of screwed up post traumatic stress disorder!?"

To his credit Derek remains human, and speaks calmly.

"You're angry."

Stiles throws his hands in the air.

"Of course I'm angry! I'm pissed the fuck off! At you! You abandoned us without so much as a "great job helping me kill the Alpha"! Nothing! I had to pick up the pieces because who else would? I started experimenting because I thought you might come back like Peter! I was prepared to kill you because I wasn't going to let you murder anyone else I love because, news flash dude, I don't have that many people I care about left! And Scott, the kid has been my best friend since we shared sparkly crayons in kindergarten, but he has a one track mind and I really don't blame him because Allison? Is freaking awesome! So I stepped up, like I always do. I'm better at it anyway! Scott still trips on his shoe laces for the love of Batman! And yeah, I distanced myself. I got tired of being the third wheel! A guy can only take watching his best friend making kissy faces at his girlfriend so much!"

Derek raises an eyebrow and Stiles shakes this finger at his face. He closes his eyes for a second and gathers up his resolve.

"The point is you don't get to come rolling back into town and screwing everything up and putting these ridiculous "Stiles is broken and mentally deficient" thoughts into everyone's head. Yeah, the nightmares are fucking shitty but I dealt with - am dealing with it! I'm okay! I told Scott I was okay. I wouldn't lie to my best friend! Who knows when I'm LYING! And FYI? I stopped experimenting because I almost killed him! I openly admit that sometimes my ideas aren't that great alright!? Like giving you those clothes as a like a peace offering. Stupid of me to think we could be friends! Or at least thinking that giving you some hand me downs would endear me to you so you wouldn't try to eat me so often! Speaking of things trying to eat me, those four months you think I was off somewhere curled in the fetal position with visions of deranged Alphas dancing around in my head? I was taking care of Orion! I do have a life outside of werewolves. It pisses me off that people seem to forget that! I'm also pissed off because I-_we_ tried to find you for months, months, and Lydia finds you right out of the blue and then she doesn't even tell us about it!"

"It was kind of an accident."

Stiles sails deflate. He forgets whatever he was saying because…

"What?"

"She found me on accident. I was getting some things I left in Seattle before heading out to the reservation. I turned around and she was just there, on the street. I made sure she knew the signs and asked her not to contact any of you about seeing me. I would have made things worse."

It's not a hard thing to process but it still takes Stiles time to understand what he's just been told.

"Oh."

Derek who had been waiting patiently finally speaks.

"Are you done?"

Stiles can only nod because his speech has been completely derailed and _holy shit!_ He punched Derek Hale in the face! _Twice_!

"Sit."

He falls back into the familiar sofa and doesn't look over his shoulder as Derek opens the fridge and opens something with a hiss and clank. When that something ends up in front of his face and turns out to be a beer, condensation already forming on the glass bottle neck, he starts talking again.

"Yeah, I'm a minor and my dad-"

"Drink."

That's the Alpha voice. That voice leaves no room for argument. He's not a wolf but it's a voice that demands cooperation. So Stiles drinks. It's halfway gone when he finally puts it down. As far as beers go it's not the worst he's had. There's a moon on it, and the irony does not escape Stiles. He thinks he might actually kind of like it if he wasn't being forced to drink it. He feels himself getting ready to tell him that getting someone drunk isn't the best way to deal with their problems but he bites his tongue because Derek is watching him with intense eyes. Not Alpha eyes but not exactly friendly eyes either.

"Better?"

Stiles thinks about it for half a second and shrugs. Because he does feel better now that he's told Derek off. It's just the impending backlash that he's not feeling too good about.

"The next time you think about hitting me remember that I can and will rip your face off. With. My. Teeth."

He's pale. He knows he is because, yeah, he's still a little bit afraid of Derek. He motions with his hands in nervousness.

"Yeah, of course, no problem."

Derek sits back in his chair and that does little to relax Stiles. He watches as Derek takes another drag of his own beer before he speaks.

"Sorry about Scott. I wasn't expecting him to react so-"

"Emotionally? Rashly? Publicly?"

Derek's frown deepens as the words get worse each time.

"It's hard to do this again."

Stiles blinks.

"What, be back in Beacon Hills?"

He watches Derek play with the label on his beer.

"Being a part of a pack."

"Oh, yeah, well, welcome to the club."

He grins a little and that. It's just a quick upturn of his lips, barely a smirk before it's gone. Stiles thinks that might be scarier than the calm face.

"It's going to be an adjustment, for all of us."

Stiles rolls the beer bottle in his hands, feels the water catch on his palms.

"So that's why you want to start doing pack meetings."

He nods once, eyes still watching Stiles, fingers still pulling at the label.

"It helps to keep everyone close."

Stiles nods and takes another sip of the beer.

"Pack is family."

Stiles tries not to fidget under Derek's intense, laser like hazel eyed stare. He tries to stay quiet but can't.

"That's what all my research says. That's what you told us. That's what we are. Pack is family. It'll help Scott control his wolf and it will help you with the Alpha."

"Yes, but pack isn't all about the werewolves. Not this one, not my pack. In this pack, we're all equal. No one is more important than another. Your problems are our problems."

He levels Stiles with a knowing stare. The same look he gave him when he woke up from his reoccurring nightmare Monday night at the meeting. He gets what Derek is saying and he gets what he's offering it but he isn't telling him that his uncle is the one that torments his sleep. Stiles forces the images down. He's working through it and he sure as hell doesn't need a sourwolf psychoanalyzing him. Instead he decides that if he survived punching the Alpha, twice, he might survive arguing with him.

"Except when we're not."

Derek actually growls at that. Stiles keeps his voice calm but doesn't lower his eyes. He takes the thin jagged line of fear that creeps under his skin and buries it and keeps talking.

"You can't treat me and Allison like we're breakable. We can fight. We can defend ourselves. You've seen us in action. So you can't just say we're equal when you make sure we aren't."

Derek closes his eyes and it looks like he's trying to control another growl. A heartbeat passes before Derek opens his eyes again. They're still normal.

"It's for your protection."

Stiles shake his head and frowns.

"No, it's for _your_ protection. If we don't at least see how far your control goes we don't know what you're capable of. We don't know how to help you. We don't know how to calm you down… We don't know how to stop you if you go too far."

Stiles lets that hang in the air. He isn't accepting this bullshit. He's serious. If Derek goes over the edge and they can't pull him back then they will take him down. Even if they don't want to because the scars in this town are still fresh, raw, and bleeding from Derek's uncle.

"No."

The alpha's voice is laced in his normal tone. Stiles keeps his eyes lowered but peeks under his lashes. Derek looks calm enough; his eyes still their normal hazel hue. He's just trying to use it as a scare tactic. _Tough cookies Wolfman._

"We need to be there Derek."

Suddenly a growl is ripping through the room and Derek is half way turned, nails long and deadly sharp where the rest on the bottle and the armrest of his chair, canines sharp and white in his snarling mouth, eyes flashing a rapid changing blue-red, locked onto Stiles.

"_NO_."

Warning bells blare in Stiles head. His inner self is telling him to shut the hell up. Derek is pissed and he isn't going to just give in like his dad does. This isn't his dad, this is Derek and the Alpha, _his_ alpha, and that's weird to think, but it's thought, and Stiles can't take that back and he can't stop the sudden anger coming out of nowhere and the words already tumbling out of his mouth.

"Fine! But you need to stop the weird mood ring nose you've got going on. It's creepy and it's an invasion of my privacy. Scott tries his best to ignore it and just let me be a regular hormonal teenager. I mean you did it before. How I'm feeling is personal unless I want to share it? Alright?"

He expects Derek to rip his throat out. But instead he just glares at him. It takes a full minute before that glare is an angry human glare. Stiles decides it's safe to actually breathe again.

"Alright."

Stiles sinks back into the couch a little relived and a little shocked that Derek agrees to keep his nose to himself. From the research he's done after the first pack meeting, he knows Derek's having trouble readjusting. He's having trouble controlling the alpha let alone his alpha nose. It's like learning to be a wolf all over again. Stiles considers how much trouble Scott was having after he turned. He almost threw up in the towel bin in the locker room on more than one occasion before he learned to control it. He just expected Derek to fight him on it. He was prepared to bring up the fact that he doesn't do it to Allison. But he thinks that has something to deal with the whole not biting another werewolf's mate thing. Stiles needs to talk to Derek later about explaining that to Scott. The kid is his best friend but he is NOT having that conversation with him. His likes his appendages just the way they are thank you very much.

Derek catches his attention again, almost knowing that Stile's mind is running in 15 different directions at once now that he's said what he's had to say.

"Just so you know, I don't warn the people I hate before I eat them. I just eat them."

Derek gives him a feral grin. It's all long white teeth. Stiles actually laughs as he stands and heads to the door. He does have lacrosse practice to get to even if he did skip his last period to chew Derek out. It was totally worth taking a 0 in his mini-lab for.

"Stiles?"

He stops shorts and turns back to Derek

"You did a decent job while I was away, keeping everything, everyone together, teaching Scott."

The teen grins at him.

"Yeah, you bet your werewolf ass I did."

A low growl follows him out the door but he doesn't lose his grin.


	7. Meeting

I really had issues with construction and movement in this chapter. I apologize if it feels choppy. The next few chapters will be of the kick-you-in-the-feels variety. Just a heads up.

Also, because I am incapable of writing anything less than 10 chapters long, I'm toying with the idea of breaking off a few chapters of this fic that could stand alone and posting them as single stories in the AU I've created. It mostly depends on what you guys think.

P.S. The batman theme is the text tone my friends have for me :) The jaws theme is the ringtone I use for work.

* * *

When Stiles heads over to Derek's to tell him about the meeting with Mr. Argent set for tonight he doesn't expect there to be mattress blocking the stairs. He barely manages to fit inside the doorframe with the giant king sized bed halfway through it. He almost squeezes past but his foot trips on a box and he goes down. He only manages to not crack his skull open by Derek grabbing the collar of his shirt and hefting him up like a mother wolf does to an unruly cub. Stiles awkwardly dusts himself off as he takes a look around the room. There are boxes and wood scattered everywhere. He picks up the directions he finds on the floor and turns them upside down and back before he can make them out. Derek's building a bed frame for his new huge ass bed. There are also bags of groceries half put away on the counter, bags of clothes dropped on the couch, and an XBOX unopened on the coffee table. He hears Derek ask him what he's doing there but Stiles decides that he doesn't want to answer.

"If you weren't as broke as we thought why did you accept all those hand me downs from my dad?"

He watches Derek shrug as he pops open a packet of screws and assembly things.

"I needed clothes."

Stiles wants to groan at the answer and he almost does but Derek is turning away from him, eyes narrowing at the halfway assembled bed frame and the headboard leaning against the far wall, halfway blocking the door to the bathroom. He's never seen Derek spend money on himself. He knew that he had to have some kind of money somewhere to afford that car and keep himself in leather jackets but he never really thought about it and now that he knows about Derek and his accumulated family inheritance... He looks at the bag of clothes on the couch and feels a little sad that the clothes his dad happily gave away to a good cause will get buried in some old drawer. He drops his backpack into the armchair and walks over to where Derek is picking out a Phillips head screwdriver. Stiles picks up a piece of solid black wood, a piece of the footboard he thinks, and moves it so he can sit on the floor in the center of the hollowed frame.

"What are you doing?"

He pulls the directions toward him and frowns as he turns it again. There is a little man smiling at him so he assumes that it's right side up.

"Helping you put this together so you won't miss the meeting you have with Mr. Argent tonight."

Derek yanks the directions back to him and very nearly growls at Stiles. The teen just shrugs and starts to put screws where he thinks they belong so he could help put the support boards in.

"Hey, don't you have a beta that can help you out with this?"

He watches as Derek still glares at him from where he's putting together the weird looking metal supports that fit across the corners of the bed.

"You can never just lead with the important stuff?"

For a second Stiles lets the disappoint take over before he beats it back down and grins. It's not like Derek really liked him before. He didn't expect it to get better after he got back or after giving him charity. He's not exactly sure what he expected but he knows that he is glad Derek is back. He grins up at his Alpha and his ever articulate eyebrows.

"I have to keep you on your toes."

He slips out his phone and hits the second number on his favorites list. It rings twice before Scott answers.

"Get over to Derek's. We're doing Bob Vila things."

He hangs up without waiting for a reply. They both keep puttering away until Stiles drops the thingy he was trying to connect with the other thingy. Assembling things wasn't his forte. All the steps and directions didn't clash well with his ADHD. He wanted to do it all at once and whatever he was assembling always ended up with more screws leftover than there's supposed to be. Hello bookshelf fiasco of '08 and the untimely death of the great beta fish, Tupac.

"This is some kind of cruel Swedish torture."

He catches Derek's grin out of the corner of his eye. It's still going to be strange thing to see, especially when it's not associated with physical violence or death threats. Stiles ends up sitting in the middle of the half constructed bed and handing Derek stuff until Scott shows up. Stiles frowns because he manages to make it through the door without eating it. _Stupid werewolf ninja balance. _Scott's eyes go wide.

"Tell me you're not letting Stiles help! Dude, you're going to die in your sleep when your bed collapses!"

Stiles rolls his eyes at his best friend as he gives Derek the last of the wooden pegs in the little plastic bag.

"Don't call me dude." "Thanks Scott. Really."

Scott doesn't acknowledge his alpha's command and he sure as hell doesn't look ashamed or apologetic at Stiles as he pulls himself from the floor. He hands his best friend the weird wrench thing that came with the instructions.

"You figure out how to read Swedish and I'll put away the groceries."

He doesn't look back as Scott looks over the direction once and gets to work. Scott's the only reason why he has a bookshelf now or a dresser for that matter. He lets Derek and Scott figure out how to make a bed out of a box. He has everything put away in no time. He only hopes Derek doesn't mind that he set it up like the pantry and cupboards in his own house. He manages to find some scissors and starts to set up the XBOX. He's already three boss fights in on Need for Speed: Most Wanted when Derek yanks the controller from his hand and ends the game.

"You are so lucky I save like every ten minutes."

Derek gives him a pointed glare and jerks his finger toward the door. Scott and Stiles pile into the jeep and Derek follows in the camaro. When they pull into the school's empty parking lot it is almost dusk. Stiles knows that the hunters chose this time because the waning light can mess with a werewolf's eyes. Something about low light and refraction, dueling variation of illumination, popping into his mind from the research he's done. They want to try and even the playing field, which is ironic because they also chose to meet on a literal playing field. They are just walking out to the center of the lacrosse field when they see the black SUV's pull to a stop, blocking the jeep and the camaro in. Stiles fights the nervous knot twisting itself into life in his stomach. It's just scare tactics. Scott watches as Allison walks ahead of the group. She folds herself into Scott's side as Chris Argent and three other hunters stop just shy of the pack. Derek is standing front and center hands relaxed at his sides. Scott is directly on his right, half a step behind. Stiles is on his left, hands in his pockets. He nods at the hunters.

Chris Argent gives him a polite if not tight lipped smile.

"Stilinski."

He gives the older man a two fingered salute.

"Sup Mr. Argent."

He narrows his ice blue eyes at Derek.

"Hale."

Derek nods back and gruffly.

"Argent."

Scott gives him a short wave and lets his arms rest across Allison's soldiers. She looks uncomfortable about the whole thing. Stiles give her a smirk. She gives him one of her own, even if it wavers a little.

"I'm sure you know why I've asked for this meeting."

Derek meets the hunter's steely gaze head-on.

"You want to be sure that I will keep to the treaty."

Chris lets out a huff of air. His eyes look frozen, a sharp white blue in the fading orange light. It looks unearthly, unhuman.

"I want to make sure my family is safe."

Scott opens his mouth to speak but Derek sends him a look. He shuts his mouth so fast the clack of his teeth meeting is audible.

"Allison is a part of my pack."

There is an unsaid, _she is my family now_, that isn't added onto the sentence but it is still received loud and clear. If it isn't the voice of alpha that slips into the words makes goosebumbs tears across Stiles's skin. He tries to ease the feeling by rolling his neck slightly. It doesn't help that four sets of eyes are watching him.

"You'll have to excuse me if I don't believe you wouldn't hurt her to get back at our family for what Kate did."

Derek bristles at that. Stiles can see his eyes flash far a split second as he closes his eyes. When he looks back up there is just hazel and a hard sheen of hatred.

"Whatever revenge I was seeking, I found it the second Kate was put to rest."

Out of the corner of his eyes Stiles can see Allison bury her head into Scott's shoulder. Derek spares her a glance before looking back to the blank faced hunters watching them. Chris's face darkens but he squares his shoulder and his face falls into a blank expression, eyes bright with purpose.

"We don't want what happened to Laura to happen again."

Stiles can see Derek's shoulders tense. Scott's eyes are boring into his Alpha's back and Stiles's brain starts to rhythmically chant _OHSHIT-OHSHIT-OHSHIT-OHSHIT_. He closes the space between them and throws his forearm over Derek's shoulder, lets himself lean into the werewolf heavily, forcing Derek to take his weight, praying that he gets the hint that he needs to stay exactly where he is before dropping his hand and wrist so Mr. Argent can see the ring. Derek's shoulders don't lose any of their rigidness but the tension in the air snaps like a chain strained under too much pressure. The hunter narrows his eyes at Stiles and the family crest that stands out against pale skin.

"Your father might not have a problem with you hanging out with a person of interest Stiles, but I don't think he'd be so approving if he knew what Derek really was."

Stiles grins up at the man, ignoring the snarls that come out of both Scott and Derek simultaneously. He isn't a fan of threats, not where it concerns the people he loves. And he always has a backup plan or twelve.

"He actually doesn't mind that Derek's a werewolf. Scott either for that matter… or that Allison is a hunter."

He takes a second to memorize the shocked look of pure disbelief on the older hunter's feature before slipping out his phone and tapping at his screen.

"He even wanted me to pass a message along. You know he's kind of busy actually protecting the people of Beacon Hills right now to attend this little sketchy rendezvous."

He takes Argent's glare in stride as he sends the message he had ready on his screen. Chris Argent's phone gives two trill beeps. The hunter pulls out his phone and clicks the audio message that was received.

"Mr. Argent, Mr. Hale, I regret that I can't be at your meeting. But as Sheriff of Beacon Hills I am invested in this treaty. As a father of a boy that is involved in this, I am invested. I know of both of your kind, from your daughter Allison, Mr. Argent and from Derek Hale. I will keep your secrets. I give you my word. But I will not be a part of either side. I am neutral, as is this town, where hunters and werewolves are concerned. I have looked into both of your codes and they will let you live together in peace as long as they are upheld on both ends. That being said… This is _my_ town. You will answer to _my_ rules. You will answer to _my_ laws before you answer to any of yours. I hope that all of our families may live together in peace. I am not naïve in thinking there won't be any altercations. I know that your families have hurt each other gravely. Scars heal slowly and history is hard to ignore. But the future is yet to be written. "

The audio message ends and Mr. Argent and the rest of the hunters seethe. Stiles just grins.

"It seems like I've been wrong about who the brains of the operation is in your pack, Hale. You would have made a great hunter Stiles. You know, it's never too late to learn."

Derek growls low in his throat. Stiles doesn't know if it's because Argent is calling Derek stupid or because he is testing Stiles loyalty to the pack. Either way it makes Stiles grit his teeth. He takes a step forward, tongue poised like a blade in his mouth, ready to carve out words that will make the hunter hurt. But Derek is holding Stiles back, a hand gripping his shoulder tight enough to bruise. The teen takes a breath and wills himself to calm down. He thinks about how much his words would have hurt Chris just as much as Allison and Derek. He'd be giving the hunter exactly what he wanted, a rift in the newly reformed pack. Rifts turn into ravines easily. Stiles looks up at him with a grin, not dropping his shoulder to remove Derek's hand. He takes a deliberate step back, putting himself directly on Derek's left again.

"Thanks, but I'll pass."

The hunters chuckle behind them. Derek let's out another growl. It's low and dark. It echoes across the field. They shut up quickly at the sound. Argent just shakes his head like he's disappointed. Then he beams at Derek and Stiles feels those nerves come roaring back to life.

"I've asked for this meeting to remind you that we keep to The Code. We will not harm your pack as long as you don't shed human blood. The treaty will remain unbroken."

Derek doesn't back down from the steely gaze of the hunter. He inclines his head, once, sharply.

"You have my word."

Whatever Chris Argent sees in Derek's eyes he seems to accept. He nods his head in the same way. Then he grins and Stiles fights the roll of trepidation in his stomach. He thought Derek's smile was frightening? He had nothing on Argent's perfect display of forced cheer.

"It seems that your _pack_ has my number but I don't have yours Derek. Would you mind if I programmed it into your phone?"

He holds out a hand toward Derek but the alpha stays impassive and unmoving and Stiles grins in his head. He pulls out his phone again and unlocks the screen.

"I got this Mr. Argent."

Stiles hurriedly copies the contact and mass texts it to the group in his phone labeled _pack_. Three different sets of text tones go off and Stiles slips his phone back into his pocket.

"Done."

Argent gives him a sharp grin and Stiles returns it with a cheeky one of his own. Derek intervenes by releasing his shoulder and staring at the hunters.

"We're finished here."

Chris studies him for a heartbeat before nodding. He looks over to Allison, an emotion flickering across his features as fast as lighting before it disappears. Stiles is sure he saw it, that haunted look, that is wasn't just a trick of the light and growing shadows. He stores that away to dissect later.

"Curfew is at 10, Allison."

"I'll get her home safely Mr. Argent."

Scott returns the man's nod with a wide grin as Allison curls her fingers into his. They watch the hunters retreat and Stiles feels the words tumbling out of his mouth before he even thinks.

"Remember: click it or ticket!"

Chris Argent shoulder's tense up but none of them turn around as they pack in their shiny black SUVs and speed out of the parking lot. Derek grabs him by the scruff of his neck as soon as they are out of sight and all but hauls him to where their cars are parked.

"_Stiles_."

His face is pinched with an annoyed look. Stiles dubs it the _I Should Have Ripped Your Throat Out When I Had The Chance_ look. He fleetingly thinks that's he's going to be on the receiving end of that look a lot more often. He manages to shrug out of the hold and fixes his shirt and jacket.

"Oh, don't you get all wolfy on me! You weren't exactly doing a stellar job communicating there buddy."

He doesn't say that he lost it the second they drug Laura into it. He doesn't say that he could practically see Derek's old wounds flayed open again. What he does is ignore the growl and the sudden flash of red blue eyes. Instead he refocuses Derek's anger.

"I might have been going out on a limb but I think it was safe to assume that Papa Argent lifted my number and Scott's from Allison's phone. He really didn't need anyone else's, especially not Derek's. He would have programmed that tracker app into your phone just like he did to Allison's."

Allison and Scott both try to peer at the screen of the phone she still had in her hand. Stiles takes it from them and the group watches and he flips to a folder that says _photo stuff_, between her apps is one that looks like a little camera app, a green lens is the only definable feature. Stiles taps it and hits a series of controls in order and up pops a little tracker map, her location a little green blimp on the dark grid. Allison looks pale and furious.

"I can't believe he did that! He's been tracking me!"

Scott tries to calm her down. Derek raises an eyebrow at Stiles.

"How did you know that?"

"Like he magically just knows where Allison is _all the time_? My dad tells wary parents about it whenever their kids go missing for a few days, usually its just them trying to scare their parents or whatever. He tried to use it on me once. I ended up making him go on a goose chase across town when I passed it onto Greenburg's phone. He works for Joe's Pizza. It took him 7 hours to figure it out. So worth the week of grounding."

Derek's lip twitches like he's fighting back a smile. Stiles grins and fist bumps the air triumphantly in his head.

"Can you take it off?"

Stiles hands her back the phone and shrugs.

"I really don't think we should. I mean removing it will only make him think the worst and he'll come looking for a fight. Just let him have a little bit of security. It might be better for everyone in the long run."

"It won't be better for him when I get home."

That voice promises pain and Stiles would not wish that wrath on his worst enemy. He can see Victoria in her at that exact moment and he almost takes a step back. Derek is looking at her with something very similar to approval. Scott just looks extremely worried probably because he finally got the Argents to stop threatening to kill him. Stiles claps his hands together to bring their attention elsewhere.

"Okay, so who has the jaw's theme as my text tone?"

Scott rolls his eyes and Derek huffs his annoyance. Allison just gives him a small grin and pat on the cheek as she walks past him to her car. He turns around and follows them frowning and throwing his hands up in the air.

"Come on! That's just not right. I deserve the Batman theme at least! _AT LEAST_!"


	8. Revealed

This chapter was supposed to be way longer and posted ages ago. But the plot fairies have taken over my brain and I wanted to post something, anything, before I follow where my imagination leads.

* * *

"Where the fuck did you come from!?"

Derek ignores Stiles's question and points to the window as he lurks the teen's ever growing bookshelf. He watches as the werewolf rests a finger on the new lore book that he recently gotten his hands on.

"You might remember me telling you about this but there are these things called doors. And since you aren't a wanted murderer anymore I don't think my dad would shoot you if you actually tried to use it. At least, I don't think he'd tried to shoot you. I meant, not like _all_ the time. Probably, only around the full moon and if you were all..." he gestures to his face, teeth barred, "snarly."

The werewolf ignores him and his rather informative rambling in favor of pulling out the book and flipping through it.

"I thought I had tracked down all the lore books."

Stiles throws his phone and ear buds on his bed as he sits down in his desk chair to peel off his socks and running shoes.

"This doctor, Conrad Fenris, wrote it. Wicked smart guy but _paranoiiiiiiid_."

Derek flips through the book, landing on a page and reading a line. The words Alpha, Beta, and Omega make his body tense. He flips further. Stiles can see, can almost feel his anger building as he finds the burial ceremonies taunting him in black and white print. Stiles doesn't realize that he has stopped moving to watch Derek's jaw jump down in frustration and anger. The werewolf snaps the book closed with enough force that the binding almost breaks. Stiles flinches at the growl that rips across the space between them.

"Where did you get this?"

Stiles rests his hands on his thighs to stop his fingers from picking at his dirty laces.

"He's been discredited and everyone thinks he's a nut job. I convinced him that I was just really into the stuff. It wasn't hard because I kind of am into it you know? But that book is the only copy he ever reproduced. And it's not 100% correct. A lot of it was based off of myths and some really badly translated Romanian Monastery scrolls."

"How did he know all of this?"

The growl is gone but the sound still lingers in Stiles's bones. Warily, Stiles bends down to unlace his shoes to take them and his socks off before lifting off the pullover he was wearing. He chucks it in the corner next to the dresser.

"Stiles."

The teen closes his eyes and sighs before turning back to the werewolf. Angry hazel eyes stare back at him as he uselessly runs a hand through his short cropped hair just to dissipate some of the nervous energy settling under his skin.

"Look, I didn't want to be the one to tell you okay? Scott was supposed to break it to you way before now. But nooooo, I always get stuck with the shitty jobs. And I can't even heal myself if you wolf out and try to take a chunk out of me. He's your freaking second! I shouldn't have to be the one to always break the bad news to you. If anyone hadn't noticed I have a tendency to die without a throat!"

"_STILES_."

The Alpha's hands are clenched at his sides, the muscles around his eyes tight, like he's holding back his wolf. Stiles takes a deep breathand plants his feet firmly on the ground and meets the green-blue eyes boring into him. He knows that Derek will be able to hear his heartbeat and know that it's the truth. He just doesn't know if Derek is going to try to rip his heart out if he doesn't like what he hears.

"He knew because he had a contact, a werewolf contact."

Derek stares at him in disbelief. When he doesn't answer after a few seconds Stiles leans toward the werewolf and sighs. He rests a hand on his shoulder, feeling the soft leather under his fingers in a firm grip. When Derek doesn't try to remove the appendage Stiles looks the Alpha in the eyes and speaks.

"I really wish I wasn't the one to tell you this. I just want you to know that, alright?"

He waits until the Alpha nods once and then spits it out like its fire on his tongue, like if it comes out fast enough the pain wouldn't hurt as much, like ripping off a badly stuck band aid crusted to an infected wound.

"Derek, it was your sister. It was Laura."

It speaks of his control that he doesn't start growling at the mention of her name. Maybe it's because it's Stiles, its pack bringing her up and not Chris Argent or Kate. He barely suppresses the shiver at the remembrance of her name. It's not fear he has to bite down, it's anger. Stiles doesn't hate anyone. For all the shit Jackson has ever said or pulled on him he doesn't hate him. Sure, he wants someone to steamroll his Porsche with a monster truck but he doesn't hate him. But he hates Kate. He hates her so much it still startles him. It startles Derek too. He can probably taste the bitter scent in the air, let alone smells it. Stiles sighs, lets the anger dissipate and tightens his hand on Derek's shoulder almost on instinct, a tactile apology that he's always shared with Scott. Now the alpha is watching him closely, his body still held stiffly but the shock in his eyes is gone. It's replaced with the looks he's been throwing at Stiles ever since the werewolf came back. It's not exactly concern but it's not really confusion. It's somewhere in the middle. It's enough of a distraction to throw out his next theory.

"I think that maybe this has to do with her death."

"_What_?"

Stiles moves his hand away from the leather clad shoulder because that look is a little too angry and his fingers are a little too close to a werewolf's mouth.

"Just hear me out okay? She helps this doctor start writing this book exposing not only her own pack but every pack and werewolf in the world. People are bound to get pissed. And Alphas don't like it when people go snitching on them."

After a while of tense silence Derek grunts as he thinks it over before his nose wrinkles with disgust at his own thoughts.

"We would have… convinced the doctor to change his interests and we would have stripped her of her rank. We don't kill our kind unless we have to."

Like Peter. Stiles's heart goes out to the guy. It really does. But he can't really show it right now because he's too excited that Derek sees it like he does. It took hours to make Scott listen and then he only half agreed with him and he didn't even want to tell Derek about Dr. Fenris at all. They never even told Allison because, well, yeah…

"But Dr. Fenris didn't just expose werewolves in this book…"

Derek stiffens as he follows Stile's train of thought.

"He exposed hunters too."

Stiles takes the book from Derek and flips it to a dog-eared section, the small paragraph that explains the etymology of the silver myth. It's a small passage, but what he is drawn to is just a sentence really, that could be easily overlooked by anyone that isn't looking for it. For someone who doesn't know the hidden meaning behind the words. He points it out to Derek.

_"Silver will not harm a werewolf, but it will kill it."_

For all purposes it looks like a typo or a slip of an already crazy man's mind. But it's just one in a long list of phrases Stiles had picked out of the book that has been true about werewolves and hunters, most of the hunter related tidbits being specifically related to the Argents, or at least what Stiles knows of them from Allison. (Throwing question after question at her was making her suspicious. So he might have abused his bro code by throwing Scott at her to get her off his trail. It's not like either of them were complaining about his methods though.)

"I think she was involved with a hunter."

Derek has him pinned against the wall so hard and so fast, his breath wheezes out of his lungs and he has to gulp like a drowning fish to breath again. He can feel chalky dust falling onto his shoulder where the Alpha's claws have bitten deeply into the drywall just above body. He tries to keep his voice even, his tone calm.

"I think she was having an affair with Allison's dad."

Derek lunges forward and by instinct Stiles bares his throat and wills his body to relax. _Submissive, be submissive to the Alpha._ He can feel Derek's breath, coming in ragged, scorching puffs against his skin. Stiles swallows as he slips his hand toward the table slowly. He speaks gently, proud that his voice doesn't shake at all.

"Out of all of the hunters, he _volunteered_ to move his entire family to Beacon Hills. He was adamant about finding out who killed her. He wanted to find the Beta because it would lead him to the Alpha, to the Alpha that he knew killed her."

Stiles prays that Derek's growl covers the three metal clicks of the stun rod. The sound of claws scraping down the wall near the side of his head is motivation enough to pull the trigger.


	9. Fission

This was not the chapter I had planned when I started writing it. Probably why its' taken so long to update now that I think about it. This has taking a huge turn from what I was expecting this chapter to be. I know I promised a tear jerker for Chapter 9 but I needed to fit in another Derek POV. I had to. But trust me, get those tissues ready because chapter 10? Left me a sobbing mess and I'm writing the damn thing.

Also I've noticed that Marked, Maimed, Claimed has been featured on quite a few rec lists on Tumblr and I am absolute shit at writing summaries/descriptions so if anyone wants to rework a general description for this story have at it.

P.S. I have the rest of MMC, a oneshot canon Sterek fic, a oneshot coffeeshop Au, and a bodyguard Au all in the works. (Someone, anyone stop me, please.)

* * *

Derek feels like he got hit by a car. His whole body surges and aches. His head is pounding. And something is making the bed vibrate. He groggily reaches out to still whatever is moving rapidly next to him. He feels the slick material of running pants under his fingers before a shaky gasp reaches his ears.

"Oh, _thank god_."

He grips whatever was moving, a knee, his realizes, that belongs to Stiles who is seated next to him on the bed. He pulls himself up into a sitting position groaning as everything convulses painfully. A lovely aftereffect of the electricity that had flown through his veins a short while ago. He growls at Stiles as the boy helps him sit up, arm around the back of his shoulders. Stiles draws his hands away quickly giving him a grin at the glare he sends the younger teen's way.

"I never had to use the elephant setting before. Scott can barely handle cattle."

He scoffs at him but he feels his wolf preen at the boost to his ego, it makes him feel a little bit better about getting tasered, but not by much. He can clearly recall what happened. He can still smell the electricity in the air as well as Stiles's scent, the usual smell of the teen smothered under the sharp, vile smell of cold blooded terror. He looks down at his lap ashamed that he's pulled that emotion out of Stiles, now out of one of his pack, again. Guilt wells up in his chest as he remembers the way he almost lost control in front of Stiles. If he hadn't tasered him… Derek isn't even sure he would have been able- Derek's thoughts screech to a halt. He won't think about the what ifs. He can't. But he can't forget this either. The scent of fear, electricity, the feel of plaster, chalk like and soft under his nails, the gouges in the wall, five comet like trails, it will stay with him as a reminder. He is Alpha. He can't afford to lose control. He will not harm his pack again. He will not let this happen again. His voice is gruff when he speaks.

"I'm sorry."

Stiles just shrugs like it isn't a big deal. Fury runs through his veins. The anger of the Alpha makes everything bleed red for a split second until he stamps it down viciously.

"It's not like I took your stupid nerf gun and broke it Stiles! I wanted to rip your heart out!"

He doesn't realize that he's crowded into Stiles until he can see the boy flinch back a little. He's about to pull back and apologize again when the teen gets right up in Derek's own personal space. Derek can't recall when Stiles not only stood his ground but held it. He is surprised into inaction.

"I'm not saying that you wanting to make an afternoon snack of my heart isn't important. It kind of is. I'm saying that I get it. I get why you wolfed out at me. Hearing news like that, you can't take it any other way."

It's not until they lapse into silence that he realizes his hand is still splayed against Stiles knee. He drags it away and stands up and makes his way to the door ignoring the sudden and sporadic contraction of the muscles in his back where the taser rod struck him. He needs to move, to go, to run. He needs to get away from it all. He needs to shake off the piercing sting of shame, of betrayal and anger that his wolf kicks up inside of him. He needs to go if his control slips again. He half hears Stiles move to follow him, is aware that he's speaking but can't focus on what he trying to say. He doesn't realize he's outside until his fingers dig into the cool grass of the Stilinski's front yard. He doesn't realize he's shifted until his claws sink inches deep into the damp, dank soil in the woods that surround the Sherriff's house, the same woods that blend and bleed out into his family's land.

His wolf snarls at the thought of family. _Betrayer_ it chants. _Sister_ and _liar_ and _abandoned_. The fury crowding his head clears and he draws himself back painfully. The quick snap of control over his wolf is painful, sharp, choking. It helps him focus. He reins himself back in, the physical pain of refusing the transformation into his Alpha form blending into the emotional pain, blending into the desperate howls of his wolf like a sick lullaby of ache. He runs. He runs like the very wind is trying to catch him. His chest heaves through his harsh paces but his body keeps up. He snarls and the forest stills around him. Quiet echoes around him. He can think in this quiet, with the smell of forest, the shadows cast by warm evening light, the thought of _home,_ surrounding him.

He hates the disconnect his feels inside of himself. There used to be no separation between the wolf and himself. They were the same being. The same person. There was only Derek. Not Derek and the wolf. But now he can feel it. The part of himself that he had complete control over, the part of himself that he loved, that made him werewolf, that made him a Hale. It's now something else, something other. It's still him, he knows, but it's instinctual. It's natural and wild and so, so strong. There wasn't a struggle to keep himself reigned in, not since he was a child. Not like this. Then Laura was murdered and Peter needed to die and his wolf absorbed the power but he couldn't deal with it. Had no idea how to control it, to tame his wolf again, not after being himself, being a Beta, for so long. He was never supposed to have this. He was never supposed to bear this kind of power. He was never trained and Laura wasn't either, or at least not nearly enough.

He howls and it's nothing but pain and grief and anger. God, Laura was never supposed to bear this either. Not yet. Not so young. She struggled just as much as he had for those months hidden away in the reserve, the shaman forcing him to hold his own against, against _himself_, until he could shift into his old form without losing control. The only thought that kept him in check was the sheer amount of fear of what he would do if he did let his wolf, newly reborn, win. Like tonight, like when he started to lose control. He will never know if he would have won the struggle with the wolf. He will never know if he could have kept himself in check before Stiles pulled the trigger and that thought terrifies the fuck out of him.

Derek sinks his claws into the soft bark of an oak tree to remove the feel of sheetrock under his nails. He growls into the night. This is what he was afraid of. Harming one of his pack. Pack. He had struggled to come to terms with that during his isolation. He was so angry at having one at first. A pack he didn't want but desperately needed. He fought the little flame of pack tooth and nail. He tried and failed desperately not to let it kinder. But the wolf craved for a family that he still mourned. He mourned and he hated. Those emotions bundled together. Rage at Peter for hurting the only person he had left, that they had left. He could barely distinguish that fury from the anger at his uncle for forcing Derek to take his life for the safety of his pack. His wolf had already accepted them as pack, already thought of them as a unit, as a family. They were his. _His pack_, which consisted of one frustratingly stubborn, one track minded teenager, a huntress in training that just so happened to be the niece of the woman who used him and burned almost his entire family alive, and a human that forged a spot for himself in Derek's pack with his boundless energy, intelligence, and unwavering loyalty.

A human that should have never been involved in this, should never have had his life taken away from him. Because Stiles life _was_ taken from him. The second Peter bit Scott, Stiles was dragged into this world filled with sharp teeth and pain and fear and so much blood. Derek is still so angry at that because out of all of them, Stiles was the only one who stood a chance at a normal life. Scott was bitten and couldn't just turn away. Allison was always going to pick up the mantel her family name bore on her shoulders. But Stiles? He chose this life. He chose to help Scott when he went to his best friend in fear and desperation. He was the one who taught and trained and sacrificed. He was the one his best friend went after with claws and fangs and moonlust.

Derek had to work around all the anger he had Stiles because it was just misplaced anger at himself. Yes, the teen blindly threw himself into things without a thought about his own safety. But Derek was the reason why Stiles was neck deep in all of this. Scott went to Stiles for help because Derek wasn't there. Derek was the reason Stiles was put into danger. Derek was the reason Stiles was forced to watch Peter tear apart the girl he was hopelessly in love with right in front of him. Because of Derek and his continuous fuck ups Stiles is the one that has nightmares about his Uncle, about his kidnapping, and the offer of the bite. And yet he was always the one who asked Stiles, again and again, to help knowing that it made him a target, knowing that he would always say yes. He was the one that Stiles made sacrifices for. He growls at the sudden strike of fury boiling up in his chest. He breathes in deeply through his nose and wills himself to calm down.

Tonight, again, he was the one who put Stiles in danger. He was the one that was blinded by his rage. He was the one that was the threat. He stops running to sink to his knees in the dirt. He pants as he curls his hands into fists on his thighs. He throws his head up to the waning evening sun. He will be damned if he becomes anything like Peter. He won't harm his pack. Not again, never again. Even if he butchers every other aspect of being an Alpha he will protect them from any harm that comes their way. He will rip apart anything that threatens them even if that threat is Derek himself. His wolf rumbles its approval. He wills it to shut the fuck up. Claws scrape at denim as he sighs into the quiet dark. He is exhausted, either from the running or the rehashed psychological struggle he finally battled through. But he still isn't done living through the terrors in his own head.

"Laura."

The initial betrayal and shock he felt has worn off because what Stiles was saying made sense. It fit with the gaps where Laura went off by herself, both when they were still picking themselves back up after the fire in California, and the times she ran off in New York. He never asked her where she went and what she did or why she immediately headed to the shower each time she came back. He didn't feel like he could ask, like he even deserved to question her after what he did. He had told her the night of the fire in tears who did it, how he was responsible. She had held him and murmured that it was okay. That everything was okay when it really, really wasn't and might never be okay again. He didn't know if she didn't lash out at him because she was the one that encouraged his relationship with Kate or because she was grieving too much for it to register. But she never lashed out at him, never was angry at him, and never said anything about it being his fault. Because it will always be his for not seeing past his emotions and hormones and ignoring the pull of his instincts, his wolf, telling him to cull the relationship, telling him that his body was wrong, his mind was wrong, that _she was wrong_.

He handled the guilt with silence and struggled to not let it swallow him whole. He handled it by working out, by pushing himself, by building walls to protect himself from the things that hurt him and the things that could hurt him still. He became closed off and cold and it suited him just fine. Laura dealt with her own pain by talking, by writing things down. He still had some of her old journals tucked into the trunk of his car. She wrote and wrote and talked and talked and she'd always come away lighter, more calm. Stiles reminded him of Laura sometimes. The constant noise that fell from his mouth, the humming of songs under his breath, the fact that he couldn't let an awkward silence lie; it was so Laura that it almost ached on occasion. Like the time Stiles started humming _Everlong_, her favorite song while researching. Which is maybe why he reacted so strongly to what Stiles was saying. That Laura would do that, would fall into a relationship with a hunter, _with an Argent_, after his own wretched mistake that burned their whole world to the ground.

But it made sense. It all made such blindingly obvious sense. How Laura's control was so shaky at first, worse than his but better after her clandestine meetings in California that she never talked about, and then after a week in New York she came home with iron clad control and a sort of restful peace that managed to sooth even his frazzled emotions. He never pushed, never asked, was too busy wallowing in guilt to even notice the change. And then the information in that book, it had to come from a wolf. They were in California long enough for Laura to share information with Fenris. Jesus Christ, he was an idiot. He had always assumed she went to visit Peter. If she was sharing information with Fenris and he had something published, even if it was just one book, it was more than enough to pull attention to them, their world. There were always people, of their kind, keeping a close watch on whatever information was being brought to light about werewolves. The only reason they let Twilight slide was because it was filled with so much bullshit that it was actually hilarious. But if Laura was the one sharing secrets… it wouldn't be the wolves that would be after her. It would be the hunters too. In big cities like New York, territory was transient. There were no big packs in the city, omegas had freedom to roam and so did the hunters. They had connections that kept them in the know. He heard rumors of an Argent blowing into town… right around the time Laura's control got miraculously good.

"God damn it _Laura_."

He feels guilt sink under his skin, claw at his heart. He always feels guilty. But this time it's for not noticing, not making those connections sooner. He feels hurt too. For her not trusting him with this. For her not sharing this with him when they had always shared everything before. Somehow that bites him deeper than the ever-present guilt. Because he would have been happy for her even, even if it was an Argent, even if it was Chris. Yes, she was his Alpha but more than that she was his sister and he just wanted her to be happy again. And the man was still in town. Derek pulls himself from the ground, from his emotions, squares his shoulders, and starts toward his apartment. He wants an answer and he sure as hell is going to get it.


	10. Answers

I never intended to make you guys wait so long for another chapter. But life happens. I've had two deaths in my family (one blood and another that I consider blood, biology be damned) and it kind of threw me for a loop. I've poked at this chapter on and off but its' safe to say that I haven't been in the mood to write or edit. But I'm starting to churn things out again and glad for the distraction.  
Also make sure to check out the edited tags, and the newly corrected notes in previous chapters. I added in some information my spastic mind left out that's kind of important to the story and will help clear some things up. Once again, sorry for the wait. I made this chapter extra long as an apology. I hope you enjoy :)

* * *

When Derek finally gets to his apartment and walks out to his car the last thing he expects to see is Stiles' bright blue jeep blocking the driveway. Derek vaguely toys with the idea of taking the bike and just driving past him since he has the Camaro blocked in. Before he has time to act the teen waves him over, looking more impatient than angry. Ignoring Derek, he leans over and pops open the passenger side door.

"Get in. I'm not letting you walk into Argent's house alone."

Derek tries to keep his face neutral. He had always known that Stiles was sharper than most gave him credit for. But it's still hard for him to accept that Stiles can predict his actions so easily. It makes his preverbal hackles raise. He throws out a retort, harsh and angry before he can catch himself.

"Afraid that I'll kill first, ask questions later?"

Stiles had mumbled that once to Scott when he thought Derek couldn't hear. He wasn't known for his peaceful thinking when people were shooting at him. And with the incident in his bedroom just a few hours ago and now, attacking him again verbally… Derek doesn't blame him for thinking that he's nothing but an angry, bloodthirsty beast. Stiles surprises him by shrugging as he pulls out of the driveway once Derek climbs in the powder blue automobile.

"More worried that Argent will shoot first, ask questions never."

There is truth there, but almost a lie in what he's not admitting, not answering. He wants to feel annoyed at Stiles lack of trust but Derek gets that he never really did anything to endear him to the kid before, definitely ruined whatever faith between them when he skipped out of them. But it's enough that Stiles is concerned about Derek going into a hunter's den alone. It's more than enough for his wolf to settle because Stiles is pack and he's acting like it. Stiles cuts off his train of thought, side eying him as he stops at the end of the street.

"You alright Big Bad?"

He snorts at the reference but doesn't say anything else. They ride the rest of the way in silence which Derek appreciates. When they do finally stop, a few houses down from the Argent's, Derek nods his head in Stiles' direction and reaches for the door handle. He leans forward to open the door but  
Stiles catches hold of his jacket and pulls him back in.

"Wait."

Derek tries to move but Stiles adjusts his grip and manages to pull him further away from the door.

"Just, hold on."

He reluctantly stays, Stiles' hand not leaving his jacket, watching the Argent's house with keen eyes. Derek is rewarded minutes later with the sounds of the garage opening and a sleek black car pulling out and heading up the street opposite their direction. The hedges they're parked behind are blocking the jeep from the car enough not to be seen. Stiles lets go of his jacket and goes for the door. Derek just sits there. Reading his confusion, Stiles explains.

"Allison's mom is head of the PTA. They have meetings every 3rd of the month. I figured you'd want as little an audience as possible for this. And Victoria? _Way_ scarier than Chris on a bad day."

Derek can only follow him out. The women were always the leaders in their pack too. When they reach the front door the teen hesitates, his resolve and confidence stumbling. Derek reaches past him to knock at the door. But Stiles catches his wrist.

"I'm not going to stop you from getting your answers. After my mom died I wanted them too. But sometimes the answers you get aren't what you want to hear. For me, they-they weren't but I needed to hear them anyway. I needed to know."

He nods and Stiles looks at him, really looks at him. Derek lets him. Whatever he finds must be what he was looking for because he turns to the door and plasters on a smile before he presses the doorbell. When Chris Argent comes to the door the only surprise he shows at seeing half of the Hale pack on his doorstep is the widening of his eyes and a skip of his heart. Derek opens his mouth and shuts it just as fast courteousy of Stiles heel digging into his foot. Derek glares at the back of his head.

"Hi Mr. Argent! Could we come in? Derek has something he wants to ask."

Argent glances past them looking for Scott and Allison, or an ambush probably, before turning that calculating look to Stiles then to Derek. That look lingers on Derek. He takes care to keep his face blank. It would be better to have this away from prying eyes. Cautiously he steps aside and waves Stiles and Derek in. Derek takes Stiles' elbow and jerks him to the side so he can squeeze past Argent. He'd rather not have his back to a hunter at all but better him than Stiles if he decides to try anything. Stiles ambles into the warm, plush living room like he's done it a thousand times before. He probably has for all Derek knows. He is Allison's friend after all. He plops on the couch and offers Derek a cheery grin. He only knows it's forced because there's a twitch in his jaw. Derek lowers himself next to Stiles and waits for Chris to sit.

"So what do I owe the pleasure?"

Derek narrows his eyes at the man, smug amusement hiding his concern.

"Back in town for less than a week and you already need our help to fix something?"

Derek is sure the only reason he hasn't slammed Chris Argent to the ground is because Stiles is radiating anxiety, the smell thick around him, coating heavily on Derek's tongue. He counts to ten, forces his anger down, and locks eyes with Argent.

"I'm here to talk about Laura."

* * *

The look that Stiles saw on the lacrosse field, he knows what it is now. He's seen it on his dad's face too. It is heartbreak and soul devouring loss. His mouth moves before his brain can catch up (and that's nothing new really).

"You were hers weren't you? Her mate?"

Stiles can only watch as Chris Argent crumbles before them. The sure, vigilant, ever ready hunter they've known disappears. His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Yes. I was her mate… and she was mine."

Derek's growl startles Stiles. Derek has always had ironclad control over himself... but now. Stiles knows he's still struggling with the inherited alpha power. He told them that, showed them, warned Allison and him away near full moons, and kept his lack of control hidden and secret to protect his pack. But Chris gives him a broken, watery eyed smile. Like he expected the reaction, like he welcomes it. Derek leans forward, claws out, and Stiles scrambles to rein him back in. He snags his wrist and tightens his fingers around skin and bone. Tries to give him comfort or at least remind him that he can't exactly jump the coffee table and kill the man. Slowly Derek sinks back into the couch, posture still stiff, still alert, but as normal as an Alpha sitting in a hunter's den can be. He doesn't try to shake Stiles's hand off so he loosens his grip to turn back to Chris Argent, his mind hungry for answers. He keeps his voice gentle.

"That's why you can't separate Allison from Scott. That's why you're letting them see each other because Allison and Scott are mates."

Derek doesn't say a word, even if Stiles can feel his eyes boring into the side of his skull, as Chris nods at him. It's sad and small and Stiles doesn't have it in him to dislike the hunter anymore. Stiles might not agree with how he does things but he can't find it in him to not care about a man who is living with a broken heart. He can't hate a man that reminds him so much of his dad. But he doesn't have to like him.

"You cheated on your wife with Laura."

Derek's voice is surprisingly calm when he speaks.

"I'm not saying what he did was right. But it, it isn't something bound by contracts or laws or even gender or sexual orientation. It is deeper than that. Your… _mate_," he grates out, "is your balance, your other half. They make you better. They make you whole."

Chris runs a shaky hand through his hair. Derek stares at him like he's looking at him through brand new eyes. He's looking at him like he's an answer to a question he didn't know he had. Chris takes a slow breath and turns to Stiles.

"Victoria is my wife. I love her. But Laura… I loved Laura more than anything else is this world."

Stiles is trying to wrap that around his head when Derek shifts, uncomfortable, anger lining ever muscle in his body.

"You followed her back to Beacon Hills because you wanted to find out who killed her."

Argent rests a hand across his brow before shaking his head gently. He opens his mouth to talk but Stiles cuts in. He knows Derek has questions he wants to ask. But one look out of the corner of his eye tells him that he's having too much trouble controlling his emotions to do the asking. And to be fair, he kind of hijacked the little Q&A session in the first place.

"Let's back it up a little here. We know that she was Fenris' informant. That's where she got on your radar," he remembers the hunters, the fire, and amends his sentence, "again."

"I wasn't directly involved before. I found out about her while I was investigating Dr. Fenris. Our people had him discredited and made sure that his research would never be taken seriously."

Stiles leaned forward, letting his hands move as he talked.

"But he had barely exposed anything about hunters in his book. He leaves vague hints at best, what he was sharing about werewolves though? Nearly everything was correct. Wolves had more reason to investigate than you guys."

Chris shrugs and motions at Stiles.

"You take a threat to your pack seriously. We do the same. He put all our lives at risk, all of our families. No matter how vague, it wasn't a chance we were willing to take."

Derek makes a soft noise, something like resigned agreement.

"We managed to get a cell number form his informant. I traced it back to New York. Back to Laura."

Chris takes a moment to breathe, eyes closed before he speaks again.

"I hadn't planned on confronting her at all. But I was hungry for answers. Not just about that book and why she would even help Fenris at all, but about the fire. I knew Kate had something to do with it. I could feel her hands all over it but I could never make the connection. Victoria and I, our relationship was strained at that time. She was keeping something from me."

His hands grate roughly against his half beard, working his jaw twice before dropping it back to the armrest and continuing, a wry grin on his face.

"I didn't even mean to meet Laura then. I was too close, she caught my scent and before I knew it I was lying flat on my back, and I swear if all the air wasn't knocked out of me it would have been the first time I looked into her eyes."

Derek snorts and Stiles glances at him. He face is carefully controlled but his eyes are furious. Warning bells start blaring in his head.

"You just let the woman you love gallivant off to the place where someone was leaving vendetta spirals, on mauled animals, all over town? You don't show up until two hikers trip over half her body? No, you're too busy playing the big bad veteran werewolf hunter."

Stiles grips at his wrist again but Derek tugs it away. He leans forward and Stiles swears he can see elongated teeth. He ignores Stiles calling his name. He can't focus on anyone else but the pale faced man sitting across from him.

"You roll into town guns blazing, accusing innocent kids that got dragged into this mess against their will, harassing me when all I was trying to do was what you should have been doing the second she missed your first phone call."

Chris rears back like he's been slapped but his shock doesn't last long. His voice rings out against the high vaulted ceilings and Stiles spares a second to thank whatever benevolent deity is out there that no one is home to hear this.

"I thought it was you! I thought you killed her because you found out about us!"

Derek stands and towers over the coffee table leaning menacingly into Argents' space, eyes flashing completely red, fangs out. Stiles scrambles up next to him.

"I would _never_. She was all I had left. I would have never gone against her, not even when she found love in an Argent."

The last words are said like a curse. Chris sits there, face paler than Stiles ever thought any face can get. Stiles wraps a hand around Derek's bicep and pulls him back to the couch, keeps hold of it until Derek's eyes slowly bleed out the red until they are their normal hazel. Chris looks at his hands clenched into fists on his lap.

"I know that now and I knew it then, rationally I knew that but I wasn't thinking straight. I tore up my whole family and transplanted them here because the thought of letting anyone else finding out who killed her, if it wasn't me to tear them in half…"

Angry tears fall down his face and he wipes at them quickly.

"I want the treaty to work, for her. Allison deserves to be happy. She deserves to be loved like that. I don't want her to go through losing her-her… I never want her to feel what I feel."

"You should have protected her."

It's more harsh whisper than words and Stiles wraps his fingers around his Alpha's wrist again and squeezes. He knows that Derek is filled to the brim with guilt and buried in long collected and festering pain. He can hear his own admission in his words projected at Chris. He should have protected Laura, his pack, his family, his Alpha.

"I tried. God, I tried. But you know Laura."

The fight seems to drain right out of Derek. He slumps into the couch and nods, staring listlessly at his knees. Stiles can almost see the way he gives himself over to the grief, his body seeming to collapse in on itself for two long heartbeats, before beating it down again. He squares his shoulders in a way that Stiles can only describes as graceful and lifts his head to meet Chris's gaze, eyes hard and determined.

"Allison is pack. She will always have my protection. She may be an Argent but the symbol she bears now is Hale. She is _mine_. My pack, my family."

He waits until Argents acknowledges his claims when a sharp nod.

"You have my pack's alliance. The truce will hold because I owe my pack that. That's all I'm willing to give. And honestly? That's the least Laura would expect of me."

Chris nods again, fingers flexing on his thighs. Derek stares at him for a half second more before dropping his eyes to the smooth dark hardwood coffee table. Stiles clears his throat.

"Last item of business for the night… I'll be your contact within the pack."

Derek stiffens next to him but doesn't make any attempt to shut him up. He focuses on Chris, hands dangling from his knees.

"If you keep pulling Allison into this, keep putting her in the middle, the only thing you're going to do is make her resent it, and you. If you have anything you need to discuss or announce you find me. Not Scott, not Mrs. McCall, not Derek. _Me_. And don't send one of your lackies either. Mano-e-mano."

Argent stares at him coolly, like his Earth wasn't just rearranged a few minutes ago, and nods. He reaches out his hand and Stiles shakes it, all under the watchful eye of his Alpha.

"You have my number."

Stiles nods and remains standing. He looks over Chris, the heavy set of her shoulders, the crease on his brow, and jerks his head toward the door.

"We'll see ourselves out."

Derek follows him again, keeping himself between Stiles again. He understands that Derek's emotions are all over the place. He sees Chris as some sort of threat. But Stiles doesn't need him to be acting like he's some sort of damsel needing her honor defended. He can deal with a hunter. His dad's been training him in self-defense for years. Allison's been training him for a few months. When he says as much to Derek the werewolf just pushes his shoulder roughly in the direction of his jeep. It's not until they're at the stop sign at the end of the block that he speaks.

"Mano-e-mano Stiles? You really think I'm going to let you meet with him? Alone?"

Stiles just grins.

"Yep."

He makes sure to make the P pop, just to make some noise in the silence of the jeep. When Derek just glares (with not nearly half as much anger and hatred that he did at Chris) he makes a show of rolling his eyes.

"Seriously? Even before you knew about –_it_ – you'd both rather glare at each other than pass information along. I am the best solution. It would tear Allison to pieces if we asked her to do it. You know it would. It hurt her enough to choose between them and us. Her mom is finally starting to acknowledge her again."

He lets that sink in. He chose he words carefully. He didn't say not talk to her. He meant acknowledge because for the first four months Victoria wouldn't even admit she had a daughter while she was at home. It was rough. And Chris, he had tried his best to comfort Allison but it wasn't enough. How many times did she fall asleep in Stiles' bed because she didn't want to go home and didn't want to worry Scott any more than necessary? Derek opens his mouth and closes it, not knowing what to say so Stiles plows on ahead.

"Scott couldn't handle the pressure. I'm not saying he's some potato. He's smart but he's kind of naïve sometimes. Like he thought cooties were an actually disease and made his mom run his blood work when he was six to test for it. It was kind of hilarious."

With another pointed glare from Derek Stiles clears his throat and steers his brains back to the conversation.

"Yeah, but what I was saying is that he could handle it _if_ he had to. But I don't want to make him. He'd be worried about doing what's best for pack and trying not to make his pseudo in laws mad at him. Besides I'm not 100% certain Victoria wouldn't try to kill him."

Derek lifts an eyebrow at that statement. Stiles just shrugs. He at least could take Chris's word with 97% faith. Victoria though? He didn't know what the woman was capable of and he sure as hell never wanted to find out.

"Besides," he adds as he shifts gears, "I'm the most neutral party."

"Technically you aren't."

Stiles clenches his jaw and adjusts his hands on the wheel. He makes a mental note that pissed off, emotionally distraught Derek didn't pull his punches (and was more of a dick than usual). Because he knows exactly who Derek is talking about.

"He might be pack by association but he is not getting into the middle of this. Over my dead body."

The steely glint in his eyes as he glares at Derek tells him to back the fuck off. The Sheriff is not an option. That's one of the things that makes him good pack. His fierce devotion to those he cares about; his loyalty. The other is his perceptiveness, his intuition. He is a cop's son after all, but Stiles has an uncanny ability to just understand. Its' one of the reasons Peter wanted to bite him. He shuts down that train of thought and buries it 7 feet under little league memories.

"So consider agreeing to this as your apology for trying to actually make good on your promise of ripping my throat out with your teeth."

His tone is joking but Derek stiffens in his seat.

"Stiles."

One day he's going to ask Derek how he packs so much into just his name. But today is not that day.

"No, stop. Just stop. I knew there was a chance you'd react badly. Honestly, I was betting on you getting all snarly. But I knew you wouldn't hurt me Derek."

Derek snaps to face him so fast Stiles thinks he hears something snap.

"You have claw marks in your wall that say otherwise."

Stiles opens his mouth to protest but he sees Derek's hand clench into fists.

"I could smell your fear."

A snort leaves his mouth before he thinks better of it.

"Just like those times you threw me against a wall or, my personal favorite, that one time you slammed my head into my steering wheel?"

Derek glares at him and he can't help the nervous chuckle that spill out of his mouth.

"You were already responding, backing down. But yeah, I was scared. But not because of you. I haven't been truly, really, scared of you in a long time man. You might have been trying to intimidate me through physical violence but you also warned me about Peter and came after me."

He can see Derek gearing up to say something so he cuts him off.

"Dude, you crawled through broken glass in the opposite direction to get him away from me. _You wouldn't hurt me_."

He knows that Derek can't deal with the trust he has in him; even if it's only in his ability to keep him safe. He can't deal with the emotions. But he can apparently deal with the sharp uptake in his heartbeat when he mentions his uncle's name if the dark, ground out words mean anything._Motherfucking werewolves._

"I reminded you of Peter."

Stiles winces.

"Yea-yeah."

He has to swallow and start again, forcing the flicker of images that fly through his head out.

"I know you're not him. You're nothing like him. I know that. But it was just similar to when, to when he offered me the bite."

Derek goes rigid in the seat next to him. Stiles watches out of the corner of his eye as Derek forces himself to control the shift. He watches his fingers clench and unclench against his thighs. He wonders how badly he wants to let his claws slip out to ease the sudden tension in his body. He knows without a doubt that he is forcing back the Alpha's protective instincts. Stiles wasn't pack before Peter but he is now and that makes it even more confusing. The instincts to protect are warring with his rationality. It probably helps that he can smell the sharp sting of anger that only Peter can pull out of Stiles, and the embarrassment of the whole situation that makes his neck flush, that pulls Derek back. They drive in silence for a while, Derek staring at his still dull human hands.

"I'm sorry. I should have-"

Stile shakes his head, flails an arm in his direction.

"Nah dude. Wasn't your fault. He was stronger than you and he played us all."

He sees Derek bite back his customary "don't call me dude" retort.

"I am sorry Stiles."

He shrugs.

"It's not that _that_ scares me. It's just, he made me so helpless. Forcing me to track Scott , to track you, and with, with Lydia. I had no power against him. I was completely helpless."

Derek's voice is strong and sure in the confined space of the Jeep.

"You're not anymore."

Stiles grins and reaches back to tap his bag where his taser is hiding no doubt.

"Yep. And my small arsenal of customized weapons."

Derek rolls his eyes at his proud grin.

"And me. And Scott and Allison. You've got pack now."

Stiles nods a small, honest smile tugging at his lips instead of his wide nonchalant grin, before his face turns serious.

"So…"

* * *

"When are you going to tell Scott that Allison is his mate? Because I am not touching that conversation with a ten foot pole."

Derek actually snorts.

"You really believed the whole mate thing?"

Stiles lets the jeep idle at a stop sign to stare at him. He stares so long he has to blink, repeatedly.

"Sometimes I can't tell when you're kidding."

Derek thumps the metal of the Jeeps' door under his thumb.

"I'm not kidding."

He can feel Stiles' eyes on him, can almost hear his brain kicking into high gear, absorbing the information and spitting out conclusions and questions and theories.

"So what you're saying is... it's magic."

Derek rolls his eyes as Stiles takes a right turn, clearly to avoid the ID checkpoint that Derek can hear a mile up ahead.

"It's not magic. _I'm_ not magic."

Now it's Stiles' turn to snort.

"You seem to be forgetting the fact that you kind of are."

Derek forces himself not to roll his eyes because they're beginning to feel like they might actually roll out of his head. He will never understand Stiles. How can someone just accept the fact that his best friend is a werewolf, that werewolves are real, in less than 8 hours but can't wrap his head around the fact that something as asinine as werewolves having mates, when an actual werewolf is telling him that it's completely bogus.

"I'm a werewolf, Stiles. I'm a product of nature not some witch's cauldron."

He can see the gleam in the teen's eyes that signals the buildup to an epic rant. Derek heads that off fast. He's dealt with enough shit today.

"How many cultures have records about shape shifters? Skin walkers? Every society since the dawn of time has passed on written and oral histories about our kind in some form. We've been present just as long as humans have, maybe longer."

Stiles sits silently while he absorbs this information. It isn't long before he's talking again.

"So what? It's like love at first sight. Or just falling in love in general?"

Derek drags a hand across his face because he _just won't let it go_. He must take Derek's annoyance as an answer because he forges on.

"So it's completely natural. Except you're werewolves so it completely supernatural."

He closes his eyes and clenches his fists.

"Stiles."

When he looks back up the kid is beaming at him. He's having fun with this._ The little shit_. But he waves at him; something that he must think is placating. Derek just wants to snap at the fingers flying too close to his face.

"No man, let me work through this. It makes sense. It does. But are you trying to tell me that it's basically like falling in love except to the extreme? It's kind of crazy."

A growl almost makes his way out of his throat before he clamps down on his irritation. His control is better now, better away from Argent, but he'd be damned if he slipped again because Stiles was prodding at him, unknowingly or not.

"No, what's crazy is you actually believing the shit you read on the Internet about werewolves mating for life when you flat out refused to believe a silver bullet can kill us."

He knows he said the wrong thing because Stiles holds up his finger in a universal "_You know…_" gesture.

"Because the silver bullet myth is biologically and chemically impossible. Silver has no effect on anything except unbalancing the meta-"

"_Stiles_, the point?"

Shoulders hunch up by his ears just to drop again before he takes another turn.

"Because it makes sense?"

Derek's groan comes out with a little more infliction. Stiles throws his hands out at the dashboard.

"Come on! Its way more logical than saying you guys basically fall in love and fall in love hard. Like, you're the champions at the extreme sport of_lurve_. It's ridiculous! And it's the only information I could find! Anywhere!"

Derek pinches his nose and sighs. He'd figured he have to tell his pack eventually, that Stiles would pry and dig and annoy him until he told him sooner than the others but it's still something he doesn't like to talk about.

"You called Lara his mate. But that's not entirely right."

_See_, _there he goes digging for an answer_. Derek had almost forgotten that he's worse than a dog with a bone.

"But he thought he was."

When the silence continues he drops his hand away from his nose.

"For lal he knows he is, for all intents and purposes, but that's not what we call it, what it really is. We just let the hunters think that's what it is."

To his credit Stiles waits four blocks before he rolls his hand in a continue gesture.

"They aren't our mates. Not really and not like that. But what I said is true. They are our other halves, our soul mates if you will. They are our matches in every way. My family called them Eros. It literally means lover, friend, companion. My father told me that it means all those things but more. He told me that it means everything that makes up love. He told me it means heart."

He watches the streets pass, unwilling to look at Stiles because he doesn't want him to see how much this hurts to talk about. He might not like talking about it but Stiles deserves to know. So does Allison and Scott. They are pack, and this is pack history, pack tradition, pack truth. He shrugs his shoulders, trying to displace the heavy wieght that settels there so easily when he thinks about his family.

"My mom just said that they would be the love of our lives."

He laughs quielty to himself.

"She hated my dad ay first. Couldn't stand him and how quiet he always was, how stoic. But he was exactly what she needed. He was her rock. He was her calm, her quiet. They balanced each other. My dad had been in love before but she died when they were teens. Car accident. But if that never happened then he wouldn't be the man my mother needed. He wouldn't have been her other half."

Stiles makes a gentle noise in the back of his throat. He waits until they've starting moving again after getting stopped at a red light to talk again.

"But people can have more than one love."

"So can werewolves."

Stiles shoots him a cocked eyebrow.

"We don't mate for life. We are still mostly humans after all. But our instincts, well... We are serious serial monogamist. It's the wolf in us that makes it hard to handle the loss. Most Eros-"

"Become your anchors."

He might not understand Stiles but he will always appreciate his innate ability to just… get it. To understand something without having to be taught or told. The unwavering instinct to just know. Even if he likes being a giant pain in the ass sometimes and pretends to be ignorant just to get all the miniscule details.

"So Peter went feral because not only did he lose his entire family and his anchor but he had a broken heart. Jesus Christ. I kind of don't hate the guy so much anymore."

Derek remains quietly still because he knows what's coming.

"What about you and..."

He shrugs a shoulder.

"Like I said, we are still human. We can still screw around. Besides if all that mate bullshit was true-"

"That'd be way fucked up."

He glances at stiles. His focus is on the road.

"Yeah."

Stiles quickly changes the subject.

"So they think that mates are magically bound and if a werewolf was to lose their mate they'd lose the mind, go feral, and basically slaughter anything in their path from grief. But humans won't be affected that way so you're covering your tracks and adding another layer of protecting for the ones you love."

Suddenly the morose, slightly intrigued look on his face lights up and turns into something more. Derek would dare to call it giddy.

"It's kind of like the silver bullet myth. Nobody is going to correct it because it protects you. I mean you'll still get shot but its' not going to do any damage."

"Head shots will still take us down."

Stiles snorts.

"What I'm saying is that it's really smart."

They end the ride together in silence. It's not until they pull up in front of the McCall's and the driveway leading up to the garage and his apartment that Stiles nods his head. He's shutting the door to the jeep when Stiles catches his eye.

"You're still telling Scott. Cause I can deal with insane werewolf legends, and hunters, and having my life threatened by leprechauns, but telling him he's right about Allison being the love of his life after arguing with him about how love at first sight is bullshit? I just can't do it. My ego can't handle it or his shit eating grin."

Derek manages to smirk at him before his brain catches up to what Stiles said.

"What do you mean life threatened by leprechauns?"

Stiles just shakes his head and fixes him with a look equal parts determined and scandalized.

"We don't talk about the leprechauns Derek."

He peels away before Derek can force him to explain exactly what the hell he was talking about.


	11. Reconnaissance

Monday afternoon finds Stiles laying on his back, head tipped over the edge of the still solid Hale house poach, watching an upside down Scott and Derek maneuver a chest of drawers into a massive U-Haul. Allison is busy texting her father. He's been more… talkative since the gps tracker incident. He texts her every hour on the hour without fail. His dad just reminds him not the piss off any supernatural beings as he hugs him on the way out the door in the morning, or evenings as it may be. But not everyone's father-child relationship can be as solid as his and his dad's. Derek pulls him from his musing with a shout.

"You could be helping instead of daydreaming."

Stiles doesn't move other than to prop one of his legs up on the bottom of the railing.

"That couch almost took me out. I deserve a break dude."

Derek glowers in his direction.

"Don't call me dude. And that couch wouldn't have slipped if you would have stopped laughing about pivoting with Scott."

Scott finishing hauling his end of the armoire, dusty but otherwise is in okay condition, into the U-Haul.

"That was a hilarious Friends episode Derek. You have no idea what you're missing"

Stiles throws his hand out toward Scott in agreement. Derek grunts and hefts an end table (that needs sanding and a new coat of varnish) into the truck too. Which reminds Stiles…

"Why are we here anyway?"

Derek gives him _that_ look again. Stiles is starting to really, really hate that look. Derek had mentioned that he wanted to clear out the house, figure out which stuff was salvageable, and start the preparation for the renovation and partial rebuild. He just didn't think that meant him. His voicemail of _get your ass over to the house Stilinski_ led him to believe something happened. Not that he'd be almost dropping half ton bookshelves on his feet and tripping backwards down stairs.

"I mean me and Allison when you've got the whole supernatural strength thing going on."

Derek rolls his eyes. Possibly. His back is turned but Stiles thinks that those are his eye rolling shoulders. Maybe. He's still trying to get the hang of reading Derek. He's got most of the eyebrows down though.

"Because lifting heavy ass furniture by yourself is annoying and why do manual labor alone when you have three lazy teenagers to cut the time in half?"

Stiles rolls his eyes. Allison giggles because it probably looks extremely weird with him being upside down. He rolls to his side and sits up, blinking at the sudden righting of his vision.

"You can't call this a pack meeting if all we're doing is being your underage physical labor. We aren't even getting paid for this. We don't even get snacks man."

Derek raises his head to the heavens and Stiles thinks that he hears Derek beg for patience. He darts his eyes over to Scott who is laughing softly to himself and grins. When he does look back to Derek he's leaning into the cab of the moving truck and pulling out a cooler. He keeps his face blank as he makes his way over to wear Allison and Stiles are holding court on the porch steps. Stiles leans down to ruffle Scott's hair where he's leaning on Allison's shins.

"Awe, see Scott he likes us. He really likes us."

Derek takes the cooler back from where he was placing it near Stiles and glares at him. He sets it by Allison instead and folds himself into a seat on the ground opposite Scott. He starts handing out sandwiches and chips while Scott pulls out drinks. He reluctantly gives a sandwich to Stiles.

"Tell me what's been happening."

His eyes are on Scott, all demanding and hard. Stiles tries and fails to suppress a snort.

"You can try to Jedi mind trick him all you want. He's not going to tell you about the leprechauns."

Scott shudders and shakes his head, face screwed up into an affronted grimace.

"We don't talk about the leprechauns Derek."

When the Alpha goes to open his mouth Allison cuts him off with a kind, if not forced smile.

"They're not going to be a problem anymore but trust me when I say you really don't want to know."

Begrudgingly he nods and bites into his sandwich. After he chases it with a long gulp of Powerade he tilts his head.

"How's Jackson?"

Scott starts off but turns to Stiles to finish. It's a lot to tell, but at the same time it's really not a lot to tell.

"Jackson…"

Jackson had done his best to ignore Stiles and Scott except to call them the usual names and make their lives an annoying hell on the lacrosse field. Well just Stiles, but he can hold his own which Jackson definitely hates (if the amount of suicides he makes Stiles do at practice means anything). But he hasn't said a word about what happened with Peter or asked about Derek. He had only spoken to Lydia once after she got out of the hospital. But Jackson had taken a step back when he saw the ring on Stiles finger that morning after Derek got back. He'd gone silent and stiff and walked away. It was the only sign that showed he even thought about the whole _werewolves_ thing.

"…hasn't brought it up or even tried to talk to us about it. He seemed to not want anything to do with us. So same old, same old."

After a few minutes in almost friendly silence Stiles plucks off a piece of crust and tosses it into his mouth.

"Soooo is anything up for discussion?"

Derek frowns.

"Short of leprechauns apparently."

Allison laughs a little. Derek's head swivels to the sound and he looks surprised, almost shocked. He has a pack that laughs at his jokes now, and he doesn't know quite what to do with it. Stiles shakes his head quietly to himself. He kind of feels bad for picking a topic that will be sure to run whatever peace had been building.

"Alright let's talk."

"About what?"

"Your control."

If Stiles didn't know the guy he'd honestly think he was part statue for how rigid he'd gotten. His sandwich is hovering halfway to his mouth. Stiles uses his complete distraction to his advantage.

"In this pack, we're all equals. Nobody is more important than another. Your problems are our problems. Literally."

Derek glares at Stiles. He knows that look too. It's one of the first he'd learned. It's the _Stiles, you little shit_ look. Yeah, Stiles knows he is a little shit but if what Derek said was true then his alpha is going to hear him out whether he likes it or not. If he doesn't have ironclad control then he's putting everyone at risk, not just them but the whole town and everyone in it.

"Just hear me out alright? Having a pack gives you strength but it also gives you more control. It's like a stabilizing agent. But you need a pack."

Derek grinds his teeth. It doesn't look too comfortable.

"I have pack. Scott, Allison, _you_."

Stiles shrugs a shoulder.

"I'm not saying that you don't. And I'm not saying Allison and I are worthless, but in this situation we kind of are. We're not werewolves. We don't have that connection to you. Hell, Scott doesn't really have that same connection to you. It got kind of watered down in the process?"

Scott looks guilty at his sandwich. He's the one that mentioned he was worried about the barely there bond between them affecting Derek's control. Stiles truly does feel bad about bringing it up but he's not going to stop talking. Derek needs to deal with it; one way or another. Even if he really hate what Stiles says next.

"You need to think about expanding."

Derek eyes widen in shock before they narrow in anger, hazel eyes bright with rage.

"Stiles, damn it, I'm not going to offer you the bite!"

Stiles, while he does try really, really hard not to react to Derek's anger, never really did well with false accusations. He yells right back.

"Why because we're not good werewolf material?"

Scott is tense next to them. Allison has a hand on his shoulder and another edging closer to her bag. Derek still hasn't broken his gaze so Stiles cocks an eyebrow like Derek is so fond of it. He seems to deflate a little at that, takes a breath, and picks at his ignored turkey and rye.

"No, because you don't need it."

Stiles leans forward to clap him on the shoulder, wry grin on his face.

"Yeah, we totally know. We're awesome."

Allison and Stiles fist bump without looking. Derek's frown deepens and some of the anger comes rushing back into his tone. He knocks the teen's hand away.

"You little sh-"

Stiles talks over him.

"But the real reason you didn't ask? You know we don't want it."

Derek stills but nods after a long second of silence.

"But there are some people that might."

Derek goes eerily still. Like he's controlling the very atoms that make him up. Scott cuts in by actually raising his hand.

"I would just like to state for the record that I don't condone doing this, at all."

Stiles spares his best friends a glare before he rushes on while Derek is still processing what he's implying.

"I'm not saying pull a Peter and got out frolicking in the woods at night biting random teenagers. I'm saying it's a good idea to think about our options and have a plan in place."

If glaring was an Olympic sport Derek would have brought home the gold.

"This is a small town, with hunters gunning for me, for us, and we have the sheriff to worry about."

Stiles plucks a slice of tomato from his sandwich and bites into it.

"Yeah, thought about that too. People that won't be missed, that fly under the radar. It would probably help that they may or may not be in a situation where the bite would benefit them in some way."

Derek doesn't deem him with an answer, but his eyebrows lower.

"You can tell if the bite will take right?"

Derek unclenches his jaw to speak.

"No."

He knew that forcing Derek to do anything he doesn't want to or to even talk about something he doesn't want to talk about was going to be a pain in the ass. He knew that Derek was going to revert back into his monosyllabic self sooner or later. Stiles takes time to sip his drink and much on some Doritos. He can wait is out.

"But…"

He eats half his sandwich while he waits. Allison and Scott watch them curiously, and a little bit warily.

"But there are certain… factors that will boost the chance of survival."

Stiles nods knowingly.

"Needing the bite versus wanting it."

Derek chomps on his chips viciously. The look on his face seems to imply that he'd like it to be Stiles' head instead of cheesy nacho goodness.

"Yes."

Graciously ignoring the murderous eating habits of his alpha, he makes a rolling motion with his free hand. The empty bag makes an ominous crunching sound in Derek's palm.

"The bite can turn on you if you're will isn't strong enough. Wanting it doesn't mean it will take. Needing it helps but it's not guaranteed either."

Sties nods solemnly, storing the information away.

"How about physical conditions. Like Scott's asthma. Some physical ailments like arthritis, injuries from accidents, possibly cognitive developments like stuttering and memory loss?"

Derek nods but huffs out a sigh.

"It's not a cure. It will repair anything that would hinder the transition from human to werewolf but it wouldn't repair a birth defect or a missing limb."

Stiles open his mouth and closes it a few times before talking, voice edging higher in shock.

"You wanted me to cut off your arm! Knowing that you couldn't, you wouldn't- Dude!"

Scott punches him lightly in the arm. Stiles shakes his head and narrows his eyes at Derek. They are so going to talk about this later. Derek shrugs.

"Yes, but to some people having the chance to heal something that has been haunting them for years? They'd take the chance in a heartbeat. Even if it was still just another 50/50 chance, they'd still take it."

Derek's eyebrows do some complicated dance on his face before settling in a flat line. Derek looks at him and Allison with steady eyes.

"If, if it was a last resort. If something happened and I couldn't get you to a hospital in time, would you take it? Would you take the bite?"

Allison shakes her head almost immediately.

"No, I know that being alive is better than being dead, and I know that being a werewolf isn't some horrible world shattering thing, trust me I know, but I wouldn't be… _me_ anymore."

Derek nods, understanding and turns to Stiles. Stiles studies his hands before answering, trying to find the words.

"I would give anything to keep my dad from losing someone else, but I can't ask you to do the same Derek. You said it yourself, if the bite isn't truly wanted it can turn on you. It _will_ turn on you. I can't ask you to do that Derek. I won't ever ask you to do that."

Scott bumps into his leg and Stiles nudges his shoulder with his hand as Derek watches them. He's silent but looks calm, settled knowing their answers, even if they weren't the ones he wanted to hear.

"So, like I said, we need to think about expanding the pack. We found some people that you might want to consider."

Derek jumps up from where he was sitting to pace.

"You, Jesus Christ, did you start recruiting?"

Stiles snorts.

"No, we just did a little reconnaissance."

Derek takes his time to wither a glare at the scraggly pack in front of him.

"You started picking people for me to bite. You call that reconnaissance? I thought you were preparing to shoot me full of wolfsbane and AgX."

Stiles speaks around his last mouthful of ham and cheese.

"That was just a contingency plan. Gotta prepare for anything and everything. You know we dosed Peter's grave with salt and brick dust after you split and then the mountain ash Dr. Deaton gave us."

Derek snatches the Powerade bottle away from him, more in irritation at him than anger (but Stiles brain supplies him with the rather useless thought of _that's the last strawberry lemonade one_). Stiles jerks his head in an incredulous shake.

"What? You don't know if he worked some hoodoo and I for one would never like to find out. Better safe than sorry right?"

The older man just keeps glowering at him. Stiles rolls his eyes and wipes his hand on his pants.

"So we did find some people…"

Derek looks like he's seconds away from losing his shit when Allison speaks up, voice calm and steady.

"We know that we just kind of sprung this on you but Stiles is right, we need a backup plan. I know you don't agree at all but just hear us out."

He stops pacing, takes a deep breath and rolls his shoulder back. It looks like he's preparing for war.

"_Fine_."

It's bitten off but it's not growled out at least and no fangs or flashing wild Alpha eyes make an appearance. Allison nods and starts off.

"Vernon Milton Boyd, IV. He prefers to be called Boyd. He's my partner for biology. He's quiet, doesn't have any friends, and keeps to himself. He does have a big family but I think they forget about him a lot. He told me that once his mom forgot to pick him up from work. He's smart, good problem solving skills, and he's big. He can handle himself."

Derek nods but otherwise doesn't say anything. Stiles expected as much.

"There's a kid on our lacrosse team. A benchwarmer like me. Isaac Lahey. He rarely talks, looks half dead all the time, and misses a decent amount of school. Not enough for the school to call child services in, not enough to be noticeable but enough. He used to be friends with Matt, some creeper from the photography club, but they had a falling out after Isaac's brother Cam died. That's also around the time his mom left and his dad started beating him."

Scott nudges his foot and Stiles rubs at his head.

"The thing is while everyone knows his dad is an abusive asshole, I mean Coach noticed and even tried to talk to him about the freaking bruises, nobody has ever seen it happen so my dad can't do jackshit about it."

Derek's eyes narrow at him and he knows that he's ignoring the whole keep your wolfy senses to yourself rule. He glares right back.

"Jackson lives right across the street from him. I've heard him tell one of the other guys on the team that Mr. Lahey knows how to throw a punch. But Jackson's level of douchebaggery is beside the point. The point is Isaac doesn't have anyone but an abusive father and a shitty job digging graves all night long. He could use somebody he can rely on, a family to keep him safe, the power to fight back… metaphorically at least."

Derek seems to be actually thinking it over but the look is gone after a few seconds. Almost simultaneously all their eyes fall to Scott. Who is idly playing with his thumbs. Allison and Stiles both smack at him. She goes for the head, and Stiles goes for an ear.

"Jesus! Alright!"

He settles down but keeps mean mugging Stiles out of the corner of his eye.

"Stiles and I have gone to school with Erica Reyes our entire lives. But I've known her longer. She's been one of my mom's patients since she was born. She has epilepsy. She has seizures at random. Anything can set them off. Sometimes she'll just shake for a few seconds. Other times it'll last longer up to nine minutes and she just loses control of everything. Some dick took a video of one of the bad ones and put it on the internet. She keeps to herself now, doesn't speak if spoken to, has no friends because I think she wants it that way. Her dad is an insurance adjuster so he's always out of town. Her mom… she thought Erica was faking the seizures for a long time so their relationship isn't that great. She smart enough to be on the AB honor roll but she misses a lot of class because of the seizures and the treatments she gets at the hospital."

They all wait quietly as Derek processes everything. Derek nods once and snags the cooler, already headed back to the truck.

"That's it?"

He shrugs a shoulder.

"I said I'd hear you out. I heard you out."

Stiles flails his arms.

"Derek what about y-"

He turns around and glares at him

"My control is fine. When it isn't you'll be the first to know."

He gnashes his fangs together to get his point across. Stiles just rolls his eyes. He knows that Stiles isn't afraid of the wolf show anymore. But it's cute that he still tries.

"You say that now…"

Derek stalks closer and grins at him, all wide and still sharp teeth. Stiles smiles right back.

"I've listened to you proposition me to bite three of your peers and I haven't ripped your throat out yet. Not get your ass up and into the truck, all of you."

Scott leans over and ruffles Stiles hair or lack thereof as they stand.

"He likes you. He really, really likes you."

Stiles flips him off and shoves him away as he laughs. They have a u-haul to unpack in some ministorage shed across town.


	12. Party

He still doesn't know why he goes to the party. He had decided yesterday as Stiles and Scott pestered him that he sure as hell wasn't going. But his change in mind probably has a little to do with the nine text messages from Scott, the two from Allison with the address and a _please stop by :)_, and the voicemail that Stiles left him of "Get your alpha werewolf ass down here man! You're missing all the fun!" It has a hell of a lot more to do with the quasi mutiny on his hands last week. He is still pissed off that his pack had gone behind his back and started hand picking potential pack members, but he really had no ground to stand on. He had left them, even if he left with their safety in mind, he still left them. So he heard them out as he promised to do. It still didn't mean that he would actually act on their ridiculous intervention demands, even if did check into the names they had given him, even if he did take the scenic route home that took him directly past the three teenagers houses. He was just getting familiar with his territory again. That was it.

He had taken away something useful from that day. Stiles was right. Their bonds were weakened. Scott's from his broken connection to his previous Alpha and then to him. Stiles and Allison from their humanity. He could sense them in a way. He could tell if they had extremes changes in emotion like fear or severe anger. He had tried to describe it to Deaton after the scenting ritual. The closest he came was the innate feeling a mother has to tell if her child was in danger. A phantom feeling or emotion outside of his own that he can hone in on. He could also pinpoint their heartbeat, voices, and scent, if he concentrated hard enough. Scott was easier because they were connected. Even as weak as it was he always had a vague sense of his presence and wellbeing. It felt strange being on the receiving end of the bond. He found himself wondering how Laura felt with the ghost of his emotions always in her head. If his guilt fed her own and forced her back to Beacon Hills and to her grave…

He shakes the thought from his head. He can't change the past, but can start to patch up the gaps in his relationship with his pack. He knows that they can all handle themselves. But he also knows that Stiles seems to get into all kinds of trouble when he starts running his mouth and that alcohol can put even a trained huntress off her aim. Scott wouldn't let anything happen to either of them but then again, he'd be concerned enough for them to put himself in danger. He shrugs on his jacket and pockets his cell phone, something Stiles nagged at him to actually carry at all times.

He tells himself it's only going to be a quick drive by. Get in, sniff them out, glare at Jackson until he tucks his tail between his legs and runs (just for fun), and leave. But it's when he gets there, as he's greeted with loud music pumping through the speakers, the muffled chant of _CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! _going off in the background, that he decides to stick around. It's just a normal high school Halloween party. But it still butts against his instincts and makes him unsettled that he can't immediately pick his pack out from the rest of the teenagers packed into the house. He rolls his shoulders to ease the tension, taking a breath, and forces his instincts down.

He's scoping the place out from his spot leaning against the stair banister. He can tell underneath the alcohol and smoke and sweat that this is Danny's house. He can smell the trace scent of Armani and grass and a unique Danny smell that is accented and intertwined within the familiar scents of the boy's family. He focuses his senses and lets them pick out his pack for him. They're in the middle of the dance floor. Stiles is jumping up and down in a way that is just short of spastic. Allison is right next to him with Scott dancing to the music. Danny is not too far off laughing at Stiles as he does a Michael Jackson impersonation that even Derek can admit, is impressive. He's heard the song on the radio and he knows without a doubt that it's going to be stuck in his head for a few days as they all sing along to the chorus.

"All the moves like Jagger! I've got the moves like Jagger! I've got the moves like Jagger!"

Stiles ends up dancing close to Danny and makes funny face at him until the taller teen laughs and pushes him away. Derek can't help but grin. He can almost feel their happiness. It calms his instincts. It's not until Stiles's grabs Scott and starts to chacha with him that Derek laughs. It's sudden and shocking but it feels good so he lets it rumble out of his chest. Scott's head snaps to where he is and he jerks Stiles to a stop to point him out. Allison makes a beeline for him pulling both boys behind her.

"Derek!"

Her cheeks are barely flushed but he smells alcohol on her breath. Scott nods at him as he smiles and wraps an arm around her. Stiles however skids to a stop next to him to throw an arm over his shoulders and grins. His cheeks are flushed and he can smell the rum and coke on him before he even speaks.

"Glad you could make it man, but where's your costume?"

Derek shakes his head as he looks at Stiles. He's in a white button down with ray bands pushed up on his head, tube socks, and basketball shorts, a homage to Risky Business. Allison is wearing a Jesse costume from Toy Story and Scott is wearing cameo cargo pants with a black nerf gun secured in a thigh hostler and a t-shirt that reads zombie extermination team. He's glad he didn't go as a werewolf. Small mercies. He unzips his jacket to reveal the shirt underneath. Stiles' eyes widen comically, mouth opening and closing rapidly in shock. Derek has to fight back another laugh. Stiles points at his chest accusingly.

"Dude! I've been looking for that shirt! I thought Orion buried it in the backyard!"

Derek quirks an eyebrow as Scott heaves a sigh. There's a story behind it, he knows, but Stiles is too focused on the Batman shirt Derek's wearing to elaborate. He plucks at the soft black, worn in t-shirt and lets it go with a pained groan.

"Oh man, you're stretching it out."

Derek shrugs. He needed an undershirt the night he went to Stiles house, the night he came back. He had to break up the smell of mothball and dead, stale air somehow. The shirt was just half hanging off the back of his desk chair. And the shaman said that being around pack would help center him… he hadn't thought twice about taking it.

"I'll buy you a new one."

Stiles narrows his eyes and pokes him directly in bat symbol across his chest (it is kind of stretched out).

"You better."

But his eyes are bright with laughter that soon finds its way out of his mouth. He kicks his foot at Scott.

"Dude, does this mean you're Robin?"

Scott scoffs and swats at the flailing appendage. Derek is pretty sure the only reason Stiles doesn't fall on his ass avoiding Scot's hand is because he's using Derek as a shield. Once he's standing upright he settles his arm over Derek's shoulder again and fusses at the cuff of a sleeve still chuckling.

"I am not Robin."

Stiles and Derek snorts at the same time. Stiles beams at him, pleased, before turning his smile onto Scott.

"Yeah, you are. Cause Allison is totally Nightwing."

Scott pouts at his giggling girlfriend and then glares at his best friend.

"Then that means you're Alfred."

Stiles shrugs and pats at Derek's shoulder.

"Alfred got shit done."

Allison runs a hand up and down Scott's arm, still fighting back giggles. Stiles leans more on his weight on Derek.

"You missed us didn't you?"

He rolls his eyes.

"I figured I'd better show up before Scott maxed out my data limit."

Scott makes a wounded noise and Allison looses it. She has to bury her face in Scott's shoulder she's laughing so hard. Scott looks like a kicked puppy. Derek almost feels bad, almost. Stiles lists forward to mock whisper.

"Dude, you kind of did text him a lot."

Scott pointedly glares at Stiles.

"I only texted him so much because you and Allison told me to! And Danny kept asking where your cousin Miguel was and I kept forgetting what I sent and what I didn't!"

Allison, just getting herself back in control starts laughing again and Stiles bites his fist to keep the sounds of his laughter muffled at Derek's completely blank face that does nothing to hide the uneasiness in his eyes. Stiles cracks up at one look at his face and clings to his shoulder as he rocks with laughter. Stiles tries to say something but has to resort to moving his hand in a complicated gesture seeing as he's too busy gasping for air. Derek can read his face pretty easily but the teen's unique brand of body language via flailing is a little harder to understand. Scott reads it loud and clear and sighs, sparing a smile at the hiccupping girl tucked against him.

"Don't worry he knows that Stiles doesn't have any cousins. I think he just wanted someone here that would stir things up."

Stiles slaps at his shoulder, red in the cheeks from his laughter, smile a mile wide.

"Who better than an accused murderer?"

Derek goes to open his mouth to defend himself. He was acquitted and the charges were dropped and Stiles and Scott were the one to falsely accuse him. Stiles cuts him off with a smirk, because the little shit knows what he's going to say even buzzed as his is.

"Sorry to break this up but this? Is my jam."

They all watch with bemused grins as Stiles gets a running start and slides into the middle of the fray and starts to reenact a scene from Saturday Night Fever with startling accuracy…even if it is to a Miley Cyrus song.

* * *

Derek is sitting in the kitchen, amused that the guys are giving him a wide birth and annoyed that the girls as sending him not so subtle stares and flirtatious smiles. (He's pretty sure Allison has told them something because they aren't approaching him. He's not stupid. He knows how he looks and he'll never admit it to Stiles but his "fuck off" face is good, but not good enough to stop inebriated teenager girls.) He's on his third cup of beer and he doesn't feel a thing. He does it to do something, almost as if its memory recall. Like when he was younger, the wolf not so strong, when a liter of jack would give him a buzz for an hour or two. The thought makes him feel numb. He's sitting with his back to the back of the house and he still has a clear view of the living room and dance floor. A song comes on that has a few kids shouting. It's heavy on the drums and bass and cowbell? Somebody's had the foresight to blow up all kinds of beach balls. He watches as Scott catches one and jumps around with it in his hands as Stiles grabs Allison's hands and holds them in the air as they bounce around together. It's not until the chorus comes in that he really understands what that feeling is. It sits heavy in his gut as he watches his pack smile and laugh.

_When you flew out of the nest _  
_You made a mistake  
Flew all the way back  
When you got back to your den  
One minute too late was already wrecked _

Scott throws the ball at one of guys on the team beaming at him. Derek has a flash back of his dad throwing a baseball to him in the woods behinds their house.

_It's a fraction of the hope but it's hard to control  
I get this straight_

_You can't, can't count on a second chance  
The second chance will never be found  
You can't can't count on a second try  
The second try will never come home_

Stiles is laughing as he bumps his hips against Danny's and then Allison's. He switches positions and does it again. He remembers how his sister used to do the same thing to him. They used to dance to the radio when they were in the kitchen doing the dishes.

_You stick to what you knew before  
Don't know what you like  
Just made up your mind  
The picture still hangs on the wall  
From back in the day  
When you had it all_

_It's a fraction of the hope but it's hard to control  
I get this straight_

He watches his pack, his somehow friends, as they laugh and smile and dance. He remembers his family and how they used to do the same. Now all he has left of them are tombstones and a picture in a frame on his nightstand. Old thoughts creep back into his head. What if he never met Kate? What if he stayed home that day? What if they didn't get stuck in school traffic and had gotten home early? What if he convinced Laura to stay? What if he never came back to Beacon Hills at all? What was he thinking making them his pack, his family? Letting them get close to him? What if he can't keep them safe just like he couldn't protect his family? What if he is the one to hurt them? What if his control slips?

_You can't can't count on a second chance  
The second chance will never be found  
You can't can't count on a second try  
The second try will never come home_

The chorus follows his thoughts out the back door and to the steps leading off the deck. The backyard is deserted because of the cold. It's a bitter chill early in the season. It helps clear Derek's head. He flexes his fingers out in front of him and lets out a shaky breath. The questions he had been asking himself screeching to a halt in his mind as he tries to find the answers to them. The first answer he decides is that he hates that song. He doesn't know how long he sits there breathing in cool air and counting the exhales. He is vaguely aware of the back door slamming open and clattering shut.

"This is where you disappeared to!"

Stiles voice is too loud in the relative quiet of the empty backyard. He fights the grimace off his face as the teen all but stumbles to sit down next to him. He ends up using Derek's shoulder as an anchor, sliding his hand down his arm as he sits like a guiding rail. Derek snorts. Stiles grins at him and studies his face carefully, leaning into his arm and into his personal space. Derek doesn't lean back even though the smell of alcohol floods his nose.

"How come you're out here? Is this you having fun?"

Derek frowns.

"No."

"I'm having fun."

He turns to frown at the teen.

"Yeah well, I didn't drink a bottle of Parrot Bay by myself."

Stiles seems to consider this for a second before leaning into him again and poking a finger in his chest, eyes narrowed.

"I saw you drinking."

Derek just stares at him as his drunken state slows down his thinking. It's kind of funny to watch him think through things. He makes a lot of funny facial expressions. Suddenly his face lights up as he stumbles onto something.

"Wolf metakoblism, metabokism, metallicaism-"

He makes a face, licks his lips, and tries to smack away his slurred speech. Suddenly he looks at Derek confusion clear in his eyes.

"Does my tongue feel heavy to you?"

Suddenly Stiles is sticking his tongue out at him and pinching it between his fingers. Derek sighs, his breath a hiss of smoke in the night air. Which Stiles finds fascinating because he decides to do it too. He giggles and does it again. Derek pulls out his cellphone and he calls Scott, not trusting Stiles to stay put while he goes back inside to tell him.

"Scott, I'm taking Stiles home. Get Allison home safe."

He doesn't wait for a response; instead he ends the calls and helps Stiles to his feet. He's shaky but he stays standing. That's when the werewolf notices the teen's bare legs and the shiver that wracks his entire body. Before he even knows what he's doing he's making Stiles put on his leather jacket. To which the teen grins and throws an arm round his shoulders.

"You're awesome."

Derek ignores him and the rendition of Tiny Dancer he is singing in favor of making sure they both stay upright and make it to his car okay. Just outside the passenger door Derek leans him up against the car and levels him with his wolf eyes. The boy sobers up for a few seconds.

"If you puke in my car I. will. kill. you."

The teen grins and reaches out to pat him roughly on the cheek before flinging himself into the passenger seat. Derek walks over to the driver side running a hand over his jaw in pure disbelief over this sudden urge to look after Stiles.

"God, I love this caaAAArrr."

Derek turns the heater up in his car but cracks the windows to let some cool air in. it seems to help Stiles sober up a little. He reaches out to change the station but Derek swats his hand away.

"You listen to shitty music."

He tries to hit another preset. Derek ends up turning the radio off completely as Stiles slumps down in his seat. He watches out of the corner of his eye as he pulls the jacket closer to his face and ducks his nose into the collar and laughs.

"What?"

His eyes roll over to Derek and he laughs again.

"You're going to be sooooo pissssssssed."

"Stiles. What?"

Derek is watching him more than the road now.

"I drove your Camaro to the impound lot."

If Derek breaks a little extra hard at a stop sign it's not like anyone but him is going to remember it in the morning. They drive in silence for a while. With Stiles, a drunk Stiles at that, he's lucky he got half a block before the teen opens his mouth again.

"No threats about my throat meeting your teeth?"

He readjusts his grip on the steering wheel. In the end he feels slightly better that Stiles was the one to make sure Laura's car got to the impound lot safely. Instead he grins at the boy now slouched in the passenger seat. Its' all teeth.

"You'll be begging for it tomorrow."

Stiles makes a sleepy noise. Its half snort, half snore. Derek knows it's going to be a pain in the ass to get him out of the car and it is. He has to help him with the seat belt and walking, standing in general.

"Gonna puke."

And Stiles does just that, right into the hedges by the front door. Derek helps him to stand up again trying to ignore the stench. He is never letting the kid forget about this. When they get to the door Derek has a fleeting thought about keys but Stiles turns the knob and almost falls flat on his face with the door not holding him up anymore. Derek stops him midway down by grabbing him across the waist. He groans but is thankful that no one is stupid enough to break into the Sheriff's house because hauling Stiles up the side of his house was not going to be fun. He could see Orion pad up the hall to greet them to which Stiles absolutely loves. He ducks down to wrap his hands around the German Sheppard. He is practically laying across the dog's back, arms around his great neck as he buries his face into the fur.

"Hey buddy, missed me? I missed youuu!"

Derek pulls the drunken teen away from the dog gently before he gets slobbered on. He nods inside the house.

"Bed, Orion."

The dog takes off to the bed he has in a corner of the living room. Stiles turns to Derek with a disappointed pout on his pale face.

"Hey, I wanted to tell him about the party."

The werewolf would love nothing more than to yell at Stiles because this is way beyond his level of patience but the kid just looks so heartbroken and earnest all at the same time that it makes something warm bubble up in his chest. And that is more disturbing than the fact that Stiles actually drove his car. He sighs but lifts one of his arms over his shoulders.

"You can tell him later."

The teen leans against the length of his body and moves his feet forward. It takes a few minutes to make it up the stairs, because Stiles decides he wants to tell Derek about the time he tobogganed down them and crash landed into the china cabinet when he was ten-years-old. It involves a lot of pointing and hand motions and a lot of keeping Stiles upright on Derek's part. He tries not to grin when he turns down Stiles offer to try it. He manages to get him in bed with relative ease but it's when he tries to take his jacket off the pain in the ass Stiles that Derek knows so well rears his head. He won't let go. It would be so easy to pry his fingers off and leave but its Stiles's sigh as he buries his face into the pillows that stops Derek from moving.

"If you take it you'll leave. Don't want you to leave again."

Derek ends up blinking at him in confusion before the teen mumbles sleepily. There is nothing but truth in those words. Not even a blip in his heartbeat.

"Missed you."

He has one hand tucked under the pillow as he lies on his stomach, the other hand holding the jacket tightly to his chest.

"Afraid you weren't coming back."

His voice is low and heavy with sleep, a little scratchy from the alcohol, as he squirms into the thick blankets and bed.

"Text someone next time."

Derek can hardly believe what he's hearing. The teen moves again, body relaxing into the blankets completely, his grip on the jacket gone. Derek doesn't move to retrieve it. He can't. He's rooted to the spot.

"But you gotta come back."

He can smell it, underneath the alcohol and the smoke. He can smell the anger, the anxiety, the loneliness. It all hits him hard in the gut. The guilt he feels is so overwhelming that he stands there in the dark, quiet room long after Stiles drifts off to a hard sleep.

* * *

"Are you time sharing that jacket or something?"

Stiles stops moaning and groaning to actually look at the coat he is wearing and then he pouts up to his best friend before groaning as the angle causes his head to pound. His voice is muffled in the leather of the jacket's sleeve.

"Hopefully Derek will show up to kill me and put me out of my misery."

He groans and lowers his head to the cool desk. He can't remember the last time he had gotten that drunk. He can't remember the drive home or how exactly he made it to his bed. But he can recall with startling clarity that he told Derek that he had missed him while he was gone. That he worried that he wouldn't come back. And that he threw up in his dad's hydrangeas. He lifts his head up and drops it back down on the desk as punishment for his stupidity. He flinches out of his desk completely when the bell rings to announce the start of the day.


End file.
